


November

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: A Year of Writing [11]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Deer Bilbo Baggins, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Naga!Bilbo, Vampires, Young Bilbo Baggins, Young Thorin Oakenshield, deer!bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:01:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 29,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins comes to realise that any life that he shares with Thorin Oakenshield is sure to be quite the adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kill Your Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin suddenly becomes unable to control his thirst and drains Bilbo.

Bilbo, as a regular human, was quite average. Compared to what walked around the streets - witches, werewolves, things of the like - he was quite... normal. He didn't think that, of course, hadn't been aware of his normality at all-

Until his best friend accidentally bit him and turned him into a vampire.

That kind of happening wasn't common - the whole changing species thing. It wasn't unheard of, either, so Bilbo was aware of the pain involved with the changing biology. Of course, those who changed usually gave _consent_ and were _prepared_ for the pain with so much medication shoved into them that they were completely knocked out for the entire thing. Bilbo, having been caught unaware, had had to suffer through the entire ordeal without as much as a drop of morphine.

Thorin had been completely distraught about it all, of course. He was always so _careful_ around Bilbo, excessively so. For the first two months of knowing Bilbo he smeared Vaseline under his nose to block his sense of smell and wore these nerdy glasses that obscured his definitely unhuman eyes. He never touched Bilbo, either, fearing he'd crush Bilbo with nothing more than his pinkie.

He could, but that wasn't the point. 

Still, it had taken years for Thorin to become comfortable around Bilbo. He shook with nerves the entire time they held hands, and always treated Bilbo as though he were made from glass and would easily break. Bilbo didn't fault him, because vampires tended to be unaware of their own strengths sometimes, and he was just human, after all. 

Thorin was also very studious with his diet, as well. Only vampires that had been tested for violent tendencies could be allowed to live and coincide with humans, and there were facilities to supply them with proper blood in every supermarket - just like there were aisles for humans, there were aisles for every species, and even special blood banks scattered throughout the city. 

But for some reason, that day Thorin almost drained him dry.

It hadn't been a day unlike any other. They walked to school together, and Thorin listened to Bilbo whine and gripe about the cold as he blew air onto his frosty fingers. Bilbo had almost slipped on the snow, as he often did, and of course Thorin's fast reflexes had caught him. Again, it wasn't anything strange. They got to school and carried on as they always did - yeah, maybe they were a little friendlier with each other than usual but it was cold and Bilbo was good at making up excuses.

It wasn't like Thorin minded, anyway! If he did Bilbo wouldn't have been so affectionate with him, but the vampire never showed anything but concern for Bilbo's wellbeing. He never looked disgusted or uncomfortable... 

Maybe Bilbo had complained about the cold too much that day. It was rather chilly, and the heat in his house was constantly blacking out because everyone in the entire apartment complex was blasting it and draining all the energy they had. And maybe he complained about getting his clothes wet but he did slip over all the time and he was sure his butt was bruising something fierce, but still. 

He didn't really expect to die at the hands of his best friend. 

"You _jerk!"_ Bilbo cried, throwing a pillow at the vampire as soon as he regained enough consciousness to do so. "Why the hell did you turn me?"

"I don't know!" Thorin exclaimed, yanking on his hair with anxious hands. "I can always control it-! I mean it's really difficult around you because you smell so good-" 

"Hey, don't go blaming this on me." 

"But I've always controlled it! I'm too _young_ to turn someone, I shouldn't have been able to. Oh my god, I should have taken you to the hospital hours ago." 

"Probably." Bilbo agreed, even as he frowned. Thorin looked really panicked, and quite a tad more pale than usual. Even though he'd drained Bilbo of nearly all his blood, his still looked hungry for _more._ His sharp fangs were still peeking out over his bottom lip. 

"I'm so dead." Thorin groaned, pacing anxiously. "Your parents are going to kill me!" 

"You're already dead-" 

"I don't know what went _wrong."_ He cried. "I should have told someone, it's been an entire day-" 

"What?" Bilbo gasped. 

"The change usually takes that long, but still." Thorin dropped onto the bed heavily, ignoring Bilbo's surprised squeal as he was jostled. "What have I done...? I've ruined _  
everything..."_

Bilbo frowned, feeling a little more concerned. Thorin looked very panicked, like he'd done something really, really bad. Granted, what he'd done wasn't exactly good, but Bilbo still didn't like seeing him with that kind of look on his face. Quietly, he shuffled over to press against Thorin's side. "You could have at least waited until I lost ten pounds." He said light heartedly, leaning forwards to peer at Thorin's face. 

Thorin stared at him. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. "Why are you acting like this?" 

Bilbo returned his gaze to his hands. He curled his fingers, then uncurled them, watching them thoughtfully. His skin was a little paler than it had been before, and he still felt a little disconnected on the inside. Not to mention a burning hunger was making his stomach cramp, and the loss of blood made him feel a little fuzzy around the edges. 

But he wasn't scared. He was with Thorin, after all - the Thorin that treated him with careful hands and tender gazes. He was never scared of Thorin, even knowing that Thorin had the power to kill him. Bilbo was human, after all. 

Was. 

"It's not like I can do anything to fix this." Bilbo told him. "Despairing over it... well, what good what that do me? I don't blame you for this, Thorin." 

"I was meant to keep you safe!" Thorin snarled. "And I killed you!" 

Bilbo gripped his hand soothingly. Thorin's skin wasn't quite as cold as usual. "You've always kept me safe." Bilbo said. "I know you would have never turned me if I had not asked, and maybe not even then. Thorin, I don't know why you did this, but I know you don't either. We'll figure it out, alright?" 

Thorin just shook his head, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. "What have I done...?" 

Bilbo put an arm around his shoulder. "What are we gonna do now, then?" He asked gently. "My stomach is kinda doing flips..." 

"You're hungry." Thorin said, lifting his head. "We can't produce enough blood to sustain our bodies - it's why we drink it. You need some." 

Bilbo frowned a little. "Maybe we should go to the hospital." 

Thorin sniffed, but nodded. He stood, and helped Bilbo stand - it seemed the use of all four limbs in coordination wasn't optional just yet. 

"We should call my parents, too, so they can get over here." Bilbo said. His parents lived in the next town over - Bilbo had moved out to be closer to school. As he stood, he made sure to grip Thorin's coat tightly, unwilling to fall to the floor in a heap. "Thorin?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Please don't leave me." 

Thorin glanced at him, eyes wavering. "I won't. I promise." 

 

His parents arrived at the hospital about half an hour after he did, but by then Bilbo was already being meticulously inspected by a team of doctors who specialized in transformations - in when people changed species. The whole process of being turned, no matter what species one was being turned into, was much like an infection, only more... drastic. 

It took them three hours to examine him. Thorin stayed in the room mostly because Bilbo threw a fit if they tried to send him out, but one of the doctors had gone to let his parents know what had happened. He was glad he wasn't the one who had to break the news to them, and even gladder that Thorin wasn't in their line of sight. 

"Well, you seem healthy enough." One doctor said, taking a seat across from him after he unhooked the drip feeding blood into Bilbo's veins. It didn't stop his stomach from churning, but it made him feel a little less hungry. "Your vitals are low, but rest should clear that right up. Your temperature is a little bit too low, as well, and I suggest you get your blood affinity tested before trying to drink anything." 

Bilbo nodded, sighing. "Do you know why Thorin couldn't control his hunger?" Bilbo asked. "He's never fed straight from a human, and never showed any violent tendencies." He glanced at Thorin, who just looked thoroughly ashamed of himself. "He's not a violent person, and would never hurt me." 

The doctor hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Well, I'll have to do some tests. There's a number of reasons a young vampire could lose control, but it doesn't often end in them turning their closest friend... rather the opposite, in fact. I'll do some digging and see what I can find." 

Bilbo watched Thorin a little anxiously as he was taken away by the doctors for testing. Thorin glanced back at him, eyes worried, but Bilbo just offered him a reassuring, if somewhat strained smile. He felt apprehensive without Thorin around, more so than he had ever before. He wondered if it was because Thorin had been the one to turn him. 

He didn't know, but he didn't have long to think on it before his parents came rushing in. 

They were understandably worried, of course, and understandably angry at Thorin. Their human baby was now a vampire, and not exactly by choice. And while Bilbo felt comforted by his mother's arms and his father's caring words, he made mumbled excuses for Thorin's actions. He didn't want them thinking Thorin was a bad person, when he really wasn't. 

"I'm going to wait for Thorin." Bilbo said firmly, when his parents started the process of taking him home. He wouldn't listen to their complaints, and only got antsier as time went on. He kept checking the clock, and watched the doors they took Thorin through. Eventually, he didn't even hear his parents talking to him. 

He hadn't felt like this before - this sense of separation anxiety, of attachment. He'd never wanted to see Thorin walk through a pair of doors more in his life, and found that he simply couldn't concentrate on anything else. Was this a side effect of the turning, too? He hadn't expected this, hadn't heard of anything like this. He certainly hadn't thought he'd feel like this, either. 

"I think we'll admit him overnight." A nurse murmured, as she watched him watch the door worriedly. His parents were questioning her, but she couldn't answer them. After a last cuddle from his mother, they were ushered out, but Bilbo couldn't focus on that. 

"How are you feeling?" The nurse asked him. 

Bilbo just frowned deeper. "Where's Thorin?" He asked. "My stomach hurts still..." 

"Mr Oakenshield is still getting tested." She said. "Why don't you lay down?" 

"Why?" Bilbo asked, even as he complied. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm just going to give you a little more medication." She said. "For your stomach." 

Bilbo stared at her. That didn't feel right. "Wait, don't." He said, sitting back up. 

"Mr Baggins-" 

"I said no." He said, pushing her hands away. 

"Mr Baggins, please take a seat." She said. "We can't have you running around the hospital, now." 

Bilbo backed away from her, trying to squash down the urge to bare his teeth. He'd run his tongue along them numerous times by now, and knew his fangs weren't descended. It was still strange to think he had fangs, honestly. It would take some getting used to. 

"W-where's Thorin?" He demanded as firmly as he could manage, which was hardly at all considering how much his voice shook. 

"Now, Mr Baggins-" 

Bilbo shook his head, and rushed towards the doors. They sprung open with a surprising amount of ease that made Bilbo cringe. He hurriedly slammed them shut, ignoring the nurse who tried to pull them open. In the heat of the moment, he quickly wrenched back the push handles until the door couldn't open anymore. The thick metal bent too easily under his grip. 

He glanced back up, breathing hard, to find the nurse staring at him incredulously. She was yelling something, but he couldn't hear her through the rushing in his ears. Hesitantly, he stepped away from the door, before turning to stumble down the corridor as fast as he could. 

The hospital interior blurred into a mesh of white lights and harsh scents that only served to fuel his rising distress. He couldn't see Thorin _anywhere._

"Thorin..." He called weakly, eyes tearing up. "Thorin..." 

"Sir," A nurse touched his shoulder gently as he leaned against a wall for support, "Are you alright?" 

Bilbo stared at the stranger, wide eyed and open mouth. His gums were aching, and his stomach was still churning. He backed away from her slowly, eyes wild. She didn't feel safe, not like she normally would have. He couldn't understand it. He tried to rush away from her as fast as he could, despite her confused gaze, but could only get so far before his legs started to tremble so badly he could hardly walk. 

"Sir!" The nurse caught him around the arms, trying to keep him upright, but her touch felt foreign and invasive. Bilbo cried out, and pushed her away. The nurse stumbled, his strength unexpected. 

He turned away from her, feeling sick to his stomach. Before she could regain her balance he'd dashed down the hallway and flung open a new set of doors. A series of signs were stuck to the walls to label the wards, and although the letters swam before his eyes he could read the arrow that pointed towards the designated vampire ward. 

At the end of the hallway was another set of doors - locked, he found, but easily pushed open when he shoved a little harder. The lock completely snapped, by the sounds of it. 

"Thorin..." He whimpered again. His voice seemed to echo around the empty ward, but there was something he could taste in the air that had his gums tingling. He groaned painfully when he felt what he assumed to be his fangs start to descend. 

A doctor from the reception desk stood as he stumbled in - clearly a vampire, Bilbo could tell. Bilbo shied away from him, panting, and let out a yearning sound he didn't know he was capable of making. The vampire backed away at that, frowning deeply. Bilbo just made the sound again, louder and higher this time. 

Faintly, he heard the sound of growling. The voice was deep, and familiar, and drew Bilbo right to it. "Thorin..." He whined. 

Frantic beeping filled the air as some machine was disconnected - then, a door from one of the rooms further into the ward was forced open as a familiar figure stormed out. Bilbo almost cried out in relief as Thorin stalked closer. 

"Bilbo!" Thorin was quick to push past the doctors trying to call him back, and hardly flinched when Bilbo threw himself at him. Bilbo's breathing was still rapid, shallow drags of air compressing and decompressing his lungs painfully fast. "Bilbo, what's the matter?" 

"I don't- I don't know." Bilbo gasped, clawing at Thorin weakly. "I don't know." 

Thorin snarled as the doctors began to approach, pressing a protective hand to the back of Bilbo's head. 

"We don't want to hurt him, Mr Oakenshield. Something's wrong with him, we want to help." One doctor reasoned, hands up. "Let us help him." 

"What's wrong with him?" Thorin demanded. "You said he was fine not two hours ago!" 

Bilbo whined, opening his mouth in an attempt to lessen the pain of his fangs descending. He rubbed them against the smooth column of Thorin's neck - they weren't formed enough to break the skin, but it was enough to make Thorin jump. 

"Bring him into the examination room." A doctor said. "We'll figure out what's wrong with him." 

 

After an initial examination turned out inconclusive, the two were left alone in one of the private patient’s rooms. Bilbo got frantic every time they tried to separate them, and it just led to too much difficulties to try, so they were left together. 

"What's wrong with me?" He whimpered, staring up at Thorin wide-eyed and tearful. "This isn't meant to happen, right?" 

Thorin rubbed his thumb across Bilbo's bottom lip, where his dainty fangs were starting to press. "I don't know, Bilbo. This is all my fault..." 

Bilbo just shook his head, and stuffed his face insistently into the crook of Thorin's neck. "My stomach hurts..." 

"Try to get some sleep." Thorin murmured, rubbing his back soothingly. 

Bilbo just frowned, opening his mouth to once again relieve the pressure of his fangs descending. It was quite uncomfortable, and the urge to bite down on something was greater than it had been previously. Before he'd really realized what he was doing, he'd pressed his little fangs to the curve of Thorin's neck and bit down as hard as he could. 

Bilbo let out a startled moan as the first rush of blood filled his mouth. 

Thorin gasped, and wrenched Bilbo's head back. "Bilbo!" 

Bilbo let out a pleading, strangled whine as heat ran through his veins. He rubbed his knees together, squirming in an attempt to get closer as a saddened sound filled his throat. 

"Okay, okay." Thorin breathed out, allowing Bilbo's head to return to its previous place. "Hush now." 

Bilbo just moaned as he returned his fangs to Thorin's skin. His blood was warm and comforting and... and... 

_Satisfying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by rainiejanie~ 
> 
> Welcome to another month~ ^///w///^
> 
> Today I visited my cousins who have had their first baby - on that side of the family, which is the side I see the most, there hasn't been a child born for almost sixteen years, so it was a very nice experience~ I've never actually been up close to a baby, or held one, so it was a very exciting start to the month! The baby was so cute, ahh ^////^


	2. Mix Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief mix up leads to a pleasant outcome.

_"I think my nephew, Frodo, accidentally swapped our phones! Sorry - Bilbo Baggins."_

He frowned critically at the phone in his hand, before hitting the send button. Letting out an expectant breath, he observed the phone in his hands. It looked and felt exactly like his own, he could easily see why his little nephew had accidentally picked it up thinking it was his. 

"I think it was more likely one of my mischievous nephews. Sorry about the mix up - Thorin Oakenshield." 

He stared down at the message, eyes widening. Of course it had to be _the_ Thorin Oakenshield that had his phone. Bilbo knew exactly who he was - he was the Uncle of Kili and Fili, two boys that Frodo played with at the day care. He'd often hear the other mothers fawning over Thorin, and although he never partook in their awkward little cliques he did rather fancy Thorin. He was quite handsome, after all, and unlike anyone Bilbo had ever met.

_"I suppose I'll return your phone next week at day care, then?"_

_"I'm actually out of town right now... would it be okay if you just used mine and I used yours for now?"_

_"That should be fine."_

Thorin would only be away for a week, it seemed. Although he felt bad for using Thorin's credit, he sent an apology text to all the people he regularly communicated with and asked them to use his home number or social media to contact him instead. It would create a little more strained means of communication this week, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

 

Bilbo spent the week texting Thorin much like a smitten teenager, if he were being honest. He'd only ever talked to the man a few times, during which he was flustered and red-cheeked at best. Thorin turned out to be rather pleasant to talk to, to the point where Bilbo often forgot what he was doing in favour of replying.

By the time the week was up, he was a little disappointed. He enjoyed talking to Thorin, but didn't know how to bring up the idea of them continuing doing so. 

Thankfully, it was brought up by someone else.

"Uncle, are you gonna keep talking to Mr Boggins?"

Bilbo hadn't even had the chance to say hello to Thorin and his nephews before Kili was tugging on the hem of Thorin's jacket insistently. 

Thorin gaped for a moment, but when Bilbo just laughed quietly he looked a little less panicked. "Here." Thorin offered his phone to him with a small smile. "Sorry about the mix up."

"It's alright." Bilbo said as he took the phone and handed back Thorin his. 

"Do you want to go out for coffee sometime?" Thorin asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Sure." Bilbo answered, maybe a little too enthusiastically, which only made him turn even redder.

But Thorin grinned at him, and started shuffling away his smug-looking nephews. "I already have your number." He said cheekily. "I'll take you to later."

"Okay." Bilbo smiled bashfully as the three disappeared into their car. Bilbo glanced down at Frodo, and sighed. "Did you plan all this?"

Frodo just grinned. "Kili did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by hanhan~
> 
> Sorry it's a tad short, I've been so exhausted lately and I have a three hour exam tomorrow that I'm really nervous about T^T It's my hardest subject too, ahhh ^_____T


	3. Punkish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo didn't get along with Thorin, at first.

There were many things Bilbo adored about his boyfriend, besides his general demeanour of course. Thorin was by no stretch of the imagination an easy person to get along with - in fact, Bilbo didn't like him at all when they met, aside from admiring Thorin's charming good looks. Thorin had been a right old _asshole,_ and Bilbo simply wouldn't waste his time on people like that.

Alas, somewhere along the line they ended up together. Bilbo didn't quite know how or when, but he really didn't question it now. It gave him a headache.

Thorin was still a bit of a troublemaker. He looked the part, too - his long hair was unruly and often tangled in a ponytail, he favoured leather jackets, and one could not forget the perpetual glare he always wore. He was tall, too, with broad shoulders - he made quite the intimidating person. 

Of course, Bilbo had long since gotten over Thorin's punkish appearance. Once they got over the hate stage in their relationship, Bilbo found that it was rather pleasant to spend time with Thorin. He was small and a little rounder than he would have liked to be, but Thorin was enthusiastic and could be quite affectionate towards Bilbo regardless, in his own strange way. 

Bilbo often found himself tucked under Thorin's arm, nowadays, where it was comfortable and the weight of Thorin's arm was steady and protective. He was a straight A student, so the teachers didn't really understand how he and someone like Thorin who had a permanent spot in detention could get along so well. 

But Bilbo didn't mind. He often voluntarily waited around in detention with Thorin, even though he'd done nothing wrong and was free to go home anytime he wished. Thorin always walked him home though, and he'd become used to Thorin's company. Bilbo used the time to get extra work done, or force Thorin into starting something productive, so it wasn't a waste anyway.

Eventually the teachers stopped questioning it, especially after Thorin actually handed in a paper he'd done all by himself. He hadn't done it again, mind, bit it was better than nothing, was it not?

Either way, Bilbo really did adore him. He'd never admit it to anyone other than Thorin, and would never use those words. It was far too embarrassing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something short because I'm tired and uninspired today ^_____T


	4. Cry Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is young and struggling to cope with living in Erebor.
> 
> Luckily, Thorin always comes to the rescue.

Bilbo struggled to adjust to living life in Erebor. He was just six years old, hardly more than a babe, and smaller than all the Dwarves his age let alone the ones older and wider than him. Not to mention he hadn't made any friends, and the Dwarves didn't admire the Elves like he did! The only person he knew was Gandalf, and the old wizard came and went as he pleased.

He didn't want to be a cry baby, but everything was so big and foreign and dark...

He'd just wanted to go home, to the Shire. He knew he couldn't, because his home was here now, but he still felt homesick and out of place. He always got lost, and he was scared of the big suspended walkways because they didn't have any railings and the stairs were too big for his little legs. 

One day, when Bilbo was crying, a young Dwarf approached him.

His name was Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo was told, and he was the Prince of Erebor.

Thorin looked kind of scary. He was bigger than Bilbo, and older, too, even though he looked like a kid. His hair was dark and pulled back and woven with braids, and his eyes were a deep blue unlike any other Bilbo had ever seen. 

But Thorin didn't act scary, no. Instead, he gently took Bilbo's hand and led him back to where the corridors were familiar. He dried Bilbo's cheeks with the hem of his blue coat, and bid him farewell.

Then Bilbo was alone again, watching the retreating figure of a kid who didn't act like a kid. For quite a while, he didn't understand, because in the Shire there were no princes or kings or kingdoms. There were only gardens and food and lots of Fauntlings playing by the creek's edge and chasing chickens. 

Erebor was so different. It was bigger than Hobbiton, and Bilbo often got lost. There wasn't much for him to do when he wasn't being watched by a carer or reading in the expansive library. It didn't help that some Dwarven children had taken to leading him the wrong way on purpose.

The little Hobbit hadn't thought Thorin would save him a second time, and yet when he was lost and crying down a dark hallway the Dwarven Prince found him.

"You never told me your name." Thorin said, as he led Bilbo by the hand through the corridors of his home.

Bilbo sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with the knuckles on his free hand. "Bilbo." He warbled. "It's Bilbo."

"That's a nice name." Thorin remarked, squeezing his hand. "You get lost a lot, don't you?"

Bilbo made a small noise, frowning ferociously. "I didn't know which way to go."

"That's alright." Thorin soothed as he glanced down at Bilbo. "You'll get the hang of it in no time."

Bilbo stared up at him, wide-eyed, lips open in the faintest stirrings of awe. Thorin looked a lot like the hero in his mother's stories, at that moment, like he was big and strong and tough and not a child. Bilbo gripped his hand a little tighter, and shuffled a little closer.

Thorin was the nicest Dwarf he'd ever met.

Bilbo didn't really trust the other Dwarves - his assigned carers excluded, of course. But Thorin was an entirely different matter all together. Bilbo started seeking him out, and was rather pleased to find that Thorin didn't mind his attention. The taller Dwarf just quirked a brow at him, but always offered his hand down to Bilbo. 

"Want to play?" Thorin offered one day, looking down at Bilbo curiously.

Bilbo's eyed widened, and his cheeks flushed. He found himself hardly able to form any words other than a mumbled, albeit enthusiastic, "Yeah!"

"I know living here can be quite different from your Shire." Thorin said as he guided Bilbo through the corridors higher and higher up into the mountain. "But I hope you come to like this place."

Bilbo stared up at him inquisitively. 

Thorin just smiled faintly, and helped Bilbo up a flight of stairs that led to an open courtyard. "I know it can never manage to live up to your Shire, but I hope this suffices. This is where I always come to play and relax."

Bilbo gasped at the sight that awaited him. The courtyard was much like a garden, with flora bursting from every seam. It was idyllic, with tall trees casting shade and a small fountain glittering under the sunlight. He hadn't seem anything so familiar in a long time.

"Hey, I didn't mean to make you cry." Thorin murmured, crouching to rub away Bilbo's tears. "Don't be sad."

"'M not sad." Bilbo cried. He really wasn't, this kind of place was something he'd really missed. He was happy.

Thorin chuckled, and shuffled him further into the courtyard. "Come along then, shall we play now?"

Bilbo enjoyed his time with Thorin, especially when they played in their courtyard together. Thorin always let Bilbo lead him around, and they played games that children from the Shire often played. Thorin even let Bilbo weave a crown made of flowers into his hair, and when Bilbo fell asleep in his lap because the sun was warm and Thorin was very comfortable, all the Dwarf did was quietly carry him back to his room. 

When the other Dwarves started taunting Bilbo about his pointed ears, Thorin was quick to intervene.

"Your ears are fine." Thorin said firmly, pulling Bilbo's hands away from the side of his head where they forcefully covered the points of his ears. "Don't listen to them."

"But they're right." Bilbo whimpered, shaking. "I don't belong here."

Thorin bundled him up closer, letting Bilbo shove his wet nose into the crook of his neck. "You belong here as much as anyone else." Thorin murmured, rubbing Bilbo's back firmly. "I rather enjoy your company, you know. You're much easier to play with than Dwalin."

Bilbo couldn't help but giggle weakly. Of course Thorin would say that, cause Dwalin was big and scary and was training to be a warrior. 

"Now then, dry those tears." Thorin said, rubbing the hem of his coat under Bilbo's eyes. "Let's go find Dwalin and bother him again, like we did last time. And I think my Ma wants to finally meet you, too, cause we always play together, so we can see her afterwards. How's that sound?"

Bilbo sniffled, but smiled nevertheless. "Okay." He said, raising his hands up with a pleading expression.

Thorin just chuckled, and lifted him up gently. "Alright, onwards we go then!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, solutionforreality! Thanks for always supporting and encouraging me, I hope you like it~ (◍ ´꒳` ◍)b
> 
> My last exam was today! I'm finally free from high school, ahhh~ I'm glad, even if today was just one of those days where nothing went right, eheh~


	5. A Singing Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo develops a crush on the stranger he hears singing in the showers.

Bilbo generally didn't mind living on his university's campus, but it could become a little... tedious. Sometimes the lack of privacy was bothersome, because he was a very quiet person and he liked his own space, not to mention the dormitories had shared showers. Their were only small ensuites with a sink and toilet in each room, unless you were wealthy enough to pay for the fully ensuited rooms.

He thought that maybe the showers were the most troubling part of living on campus for him. He was very self-conscious about his body, and felt awkward when he wasn't the only person in the bathroom, despite the secure stalls. 

As such, he generally showered when no one else did. For the most part, that worked out fine for him. He was never one to dawdle, and was usually in and out before anyone else wandered down. 

Some days, though, some days there was another person there.

Bilbo never caught the name of the person who showered at the same time he did, never saw his face or even his clothes. He swore the voice was familiar - and he only heard the voice because the man liked to sing quietly, like he didn't notice he was.

The stranger's voice was beautiful. It made Bilbo linger, standing wet and chilled, just so he could listen to it for a little longer. 

The song the man sung often got stuck in his head. He could never remember the lyrics - couldn't always hear them properly, not with the sounds of running water coming from both their showers - but the tune always remained firm in his head. It was deep and filling, and Bilbo thought that if he heard it from closer to the source then it would reverberate like something physical. It was utterly addicting. 

He often found himself looking to match the voice to a face in the crowd at the university, but no one ever seemed to fit it. He thought it was quite mystifying, and a little frustrating. Often he found himself humming the tune under his breath without even realising it, and he always chastised himself. It was ridiculous. Juvenile, really. 

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he might of had a crush on the alluring stranger. A little one, maybe. Probably.

Still, he often found himself thinking of the man. Bilbo wasn't afraid to admit he favoured his own gender, which only served as another reason why he was hesitant to shower around others (even in a stall). He was body-conscious and attracted to other males, what else could be worse?

The day that Bilbo found out who was singing in the showers was a very embarrassing day indeed.

Bilbo was tired, that day. Exhausted. He'd spent too many hours awake and not enough hours asleep, and no amount of tea could possibly rejuvenate him. The warmth of the shower wasn't really helping, and he dreaded the walk back to the dormitories. He just wanted to sleep. 

Of course, the stranger walked in when he was building up the effort to get out, so Bilbo decided to remain for a little longer. His relentlessness paid off, and after a few moments the gentle humming began again. 

Bilbo thinks he might of drifted off, which really wasn't the smartest thing to do in a slippery shower, because the next thing he knew he was slipping to the floor and crying out in shock as his bare bottom hit the hard tiles.

"Are you alright?"

Bilbo flushed right up to the tips of his ears as the stranger knocked on the stall door. "F-fine!" He replied hastily, even as he winced and stood. "S-slipped over, is all, nothing to worry about- ah!"

"What? What is it?"

"I think I hurt my ankle." Bilbo whimpered. "Could- could you pass me my towel, please?" 

"Sure."

Bilbo took the towel that was handed under the door, and hurriedly wrapped himself in it. He'd never been so embarrassed. 

"Can you stand?"

"I think so..." He could, but it hurt. He'd probably twisted his ankle, and he never really was the most agile of creatures. His clothes were in the locker across the room, so he'd have to leave eventually. Might as well get it over and done with then, and return to his room to hide for the next three months.

Tentatively, he pulled the door open. He knew his face was definitely bright red, and he certainly couldn't meet the stranger in the eyes.

"Whoa, you're cute."

Bilbo's mouth dropped open as his eyes shot up. The stranger was tall and handsome and dark haired and wet and _only wearing a towel around his surprisingly prominent hips..._

He certainly matched the voice.

"P-pardon?" He stammered.

The man flushed. "Ah, I mean... well you are!" He said defensively. "How did you even slip in there?"

Bilbo blinked rapidly. "It was your fault!" He answered, flushing. "I was listening to you singing again and got distracted!"

_"Again?"_

"You sing all the time."

"I do not."

"Yes you do." Bilbo huffed, cheeks puffing out.

Thorin swallowed heavily, face going redder as he fixed his eyes elsewhere. "Whatever..." He mumbled. "Want me to help you to your clothes? Seeing as it was my fault you got injured..."

Bilbo flushed darker, and tightened his grip on his towel.

"No funny business!" The stranger quickly amended, shaking his hands. "I just want to help-"

Bilbo's eyes shifted down as the man's towel unravelled and fell to the floor. For a moment he just blinked, not comprehending just what he was staring at. Then, he went red all over and let out a small shriek.

"You said no funny business!" He cried, turning around as fast as he could.

"Oh my god." The man groaned, diving for his towel. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it! What else could go wrong, dammit?"

Bilbo can't help but laugh a little. He didn't feel quite as tired anymore. "What a way to meet, huh?"

The man laughed too, and held out a hand. "I'm Thorin. Sorry for flashing you."

"It's alright." Bilbo answered. Bashfully, he slipped his hand into Thorin's. "It's nice to meet you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by LettuceLover~


	6. Love You Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and his family go shopping for baby things.

Thorin smoothly pulled the car into a free parking spot, and turned off the ignition. He was generally a cautious driver, but with such precious cargo along for the ride he was being twice as careful as usual. 

He turned to look at his husband, who just watched him with a fond smile. "Feeling alright?"

"Yeah." Bilbo answered. His cheeks were flushed, as they often were these days. It was a look that Thorin was rather appreciative of - he had the most adorable husband in the world, he was sure.

"Alright." He said, twisting around in his seat to face the back. "Now, you two."

Kili and Fili offered him matching, cheeky grins. As much as he loved his nephews - with all of his heart - they could certainly be quite the handful. And with Bilbo reaching just shy of nine months pregnant, he didn't think he could be any more frazzled. He just didn't have enough worry in him to watch over all four of them.

Bilbo seemed as calm as ever, though. It was infuriating, sometimes, but Thorin admired him for it.

"You know the rules." Thorin told his nephews. "You can't go running around making mischief. We're only here for a few things."

Bilbo chuckled at him, like he knew that wouldn't be the case. A man could hope, could he not? They really were only out for a few items - more bottles, maybe a jumpsuit and another toy or book. They already had their nursery all fitted out with everything they could possibly need and more, but both Bilbo and Thorin wanted to be absolutely sure that they hadn't forgotten a single thing.

It took a few moments, but eventually Thorin wrestled both his kids out of their car seats. With one on each side, chubby little hands gripped in his own, they began the shopping trip.

Bilbo was very excited whenever they brought home something new, or when he added something to his little stockpile that he'd been given. He absolutely loved the knitted hats Ori gave them, and he'd found these little wraps with small ducks sewn along the hem that he kept out and prepared for the baby as soon as they were brought home. Thorin always felt his heart grow a little more when he saw Bilbo sitting in the rocking chair in the nursery, hands small and warm on the expanse of his stomach.

He could still hardly believe it, that there was a baby that was a perfect mix of the both of them growing inside Bilbo's stomach. 

The store was full of all the baby things a parent could ever want. Thorin let Fili pick up a basket, because it gave him something to hold, and all together they began to follow Bilbo through the aisles. 

They found the bottles they were looking for rather quickly, and Thorin handed them to Kili so he could place them in the basket. They picked up another blanket, too, because Bilbo was fond of the little embroidered bees floating across the bottom. After that, Thorin took the basket and wandered after Bilbo, watching him cautiously.

"What do you think of this?" Bilbo asked, drawing Thorin's attention to a small blue sweater. "Do you think we have enough winter clothes for him?"

Thorin hummed thoughtfully, and dropped a small kiss to Bilbo's cheek. "If you like it, then we'll buy it." He said. It was a simple as that, too - money wasn't too much of an issue when it came to the baby because they'd been responsibly spending for most of the pregnancy, and they'd only have their first biological child once, right? Anything his Bilbo wanted, Thorin was prepared to give. He deserved it after going through so much during the pregnancy - the pain, the discomfort, the morning sickness. 

And Bilbo looked at him so _happily_ when Thorin said things like that, because he'd finally started believing it. Bilbo was kind, and always considerate. He didn't buy things for himself, and always had things to give to Kili and Fili, even if it were just a goodnight story or their favourite lunches. He deserved the best.

Bilbo held the little sweater to his chest for a moment, smiling.

A tug on the hem of his jacket had Thorin glancing down.

Kili stared back up at him, holding a crinkling toy dragonfly in one hand. "Uncle, what about this?"

Thorin glanced at Bilbo, who just smiled at him.

"Alright." Thorin said. "Put it in the basket."

"Uncle!" Fili grabbed at his other side. "What about this too?" He was holding a little hat with soft kitty ears sewn into the top.

Thorin sighed. "That too, then. But that's all, okay? Otherwise the baby will have too much."

Kili pouted, brow furrowed in worry. "But what if the baby wants something that we don't have?"

"He should have everything!" Fili agreed, placing the hat in the basket. 

Bilbo laughed quietly, and gently ran his fingers through Fili's hair. "I'm sure we have everything he could possibly want." Bilbo said in that soft voice that drew the attention of the children like nothing else could. "But why don't we look around again, just in case?"

Of course they ended up with an entire basket full of things, instead of just the few items they'd come shopping for. Thorin sighed at the thought of it, and although he wouldn't admit it, he really enjoyed himself, and he might of added in a few things to the basket, too. 

It was all worth it, when he saw his little family huddled together to fawn over all the things they'd got. Thorin had worried that a new baby might cause difficulties with Kili and Fili, and more than anything he wanted them to be happy and healthy, but his fears had been unfounded.

This baby, and Bilbo, had brought them all closer together.

He'd never be able to love them enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by hanhan~


	7. The Significance Of A Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin unknowingly gives Bilbo a small ring made of gold that holds greater significance than expected.

"Now, I hardly feel this is necessary-"

"Of course it is, Bilbo!" Fili cried enthusiastically, grinning down at Bilbo cheekily. "It's completely necessary."

Bilbo frowned, twisting his arms up to stare at what the two Princes of Erebor had dressed him in. As Thorin's consort, he knew he'd be expected to wear traditional Dwarven clothing at times. Bilbo had no problems with that, because while Dwarven clothing was a lot different from the clothing Hobbits wore, he rather liked it. It was comfortable, lightweight and exceedingly warm, after all, perfect wear for living inside a mountain.

Either way, the clothing the Princes had dressed him in seemed a bit... well, Bilbo didn't know. He was unsure if it suited him, and while he did get rather startled upon first seeing himself in a mirror, the clothes had grown on him.

Predictably, the tunic was a deep blue colour, because that was the colour Thorin wore. It was lined with golden hems to match the belt around his waist, placed a little lower on the hips than a Hobbit would wear to match how Dwarves dressed. Bilbo wore his mithril shirt underneath, of course, but it couldn't be seen. 

"Here, put these on." Kili said, offering his hands out to Bilbo.

In them rested several rings. One was large, but small enough to fit on Bilbo's finger. It looked remarkably like the one Thorin wore, with the mark of Durin. The second was of similar thickness, lined with gold and deep sapphires - a mark of Thorin, again, Bilbo assumed. The third, however, was much different from standard Dwarven rings. It was a thin band of gold that mimicked the shape of interwoven vines. It looked impossibly delicate. Bilbo didn't know what that one meant. 

"This one," Kili said, holding up the ring made to mimic Thorin's, "Goes on your right middle finger."

Bilbo nodded, and slipped it on. It felt heavy and cumbersome, but he thought he could get used to it. 

"This one goes on your thumb." Kili told him. "On your dominant hand."

"The first is a mark of our family, of Thorin in particular." Fili supplied, as Bilbo slipped on the second ring. "The other one is a mark of royalty - it is worn on the thumb for several reasons. Firstly, when your press your hand over your chest in signs of respective or sympathy or anything of the like, your thumb is closest to your heart. Your thumb is your strongest digit, and allows one to grip tools of all trades. It is separated from the other fingers on the hand - when gripping hands with another, your thumb comes out on top. As such, this ring stays there as a mark of position and loyalty to our race and our trades."

"And this," Kili said, offering Bilbo the last little ring, "Is yours to place."

Bilbo took it gently, eyes widening at the soft feel of the gold. "What does this one mean?"

"Thorin made that one." Fili said fondly, reaching around Bilbo to curl Bilbo's fingers over the ring. "He worried this would be too much, that you would feel uncomfortable being paraded around as though you were a Dwarf. He wanted you to feel more comfortable, and spent countless hours forging something he deemed good enough for you."

Bilbo's heart thumped in exhilaration. He held the ring to his chest, and smiled. "Is it time to go, then?" He asked.

Fili watched him curiously, but nodded. "You just need your cloak."

Bilbo waited patiently as the two boys clipped the trailing cloak around his neck. It was long, and dark blue, and heavy. It was _luxurious._

Once it was in place, the doors to the throne hall were pushed wide open. Bilbo had long since gotten used to the stares he received from every Dwarf watching him traverse the suspended walkway towards the throne where Thorin awaited him. 

Thorin's eyes found his own quickly, filling Bilbo with a sense of light-heartedness that only the gruff Dwarf could ever provoke. Bilbo made sure to measure his steps, shoulders squared to bear the weight of the cloak that dragged across the marble walkway behind him. 

Thorin offered him a hand, as he always did, when Bilbo reached the steps to the throne. Bilbo took it, smiling warmly as Thorin welcomed him up. The Dwarf's eyes drifted down to the rings adorning Bilbo's fingers. Bilbo thought Thorin might of been a tad flushed - this was the first time Bilbo had been so properly decked out in Dwarven clothing since their wedding.

Tentatively, Bilbo opened up his palm, showing the small golden ring.

Thorin's eyebrows furrowed in worried confusion.

"In the Shire," Bilbo started, glancing up at Thorin shyly, "We have a tradition concerning rings. We believe that this finger," He points out his fourth finger on the second hand, "Is connected by a vein that runs directly to one's heart. Once a ring is placed on that finger, it shall never come off, as it is a sign of unwavering faith, and honesty. No matter what, it prevails. It means quite a lot to Hobbits. Do you understand?"

Thorin's eyes searched his imploringly. 

Bilbo smiled faintly. Carefully, he passed the little ring into Thorin's large hand. It looked even smaller there, but disappeared as he placed his left hand atop of it. 

Gingerly, as though Bilbo's hand were made from glass, Thorin lifted the little ring between his fingers and slipped it onto Bilbo's, where it sat comfortably and small. Bilbo's heart fluttered just at the sight of it.

"Come, âmralimê." Thorin murmured, taking Bilbo by the hand with an incredibly fond smile tugging at his lips. "Take your seat beside me."


	8. Shoemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is a shoemaker. Bilbo is his newest customer.

Bilbo sighed to himself, trying not to sound defeated as he entered the Dwarven shoe shop. As a Hobbit, his feet were larger than the average man's, though he felt them to be quite normal. Their sturdy exterior and soft, insulating hair meant that Hobbit's could forgo shoes on most occasions.

Most.

For when they couldn't, they had to wear shoes that were a rather large size. Hobbits were unnecessarily picky when it came to shoes, because they were uncomfortable and cumbersome and unnatural. If a Hobbit had to wear them, then it had to be the right brand, the right make, the right materials and the absolute right size.

And of course Bilbo's designated shoemaker was out of the country when he needed a new pair of shoes for an event that required enclosed footwear. As such, he found himself going to the shoemaker Gandalf, and old friend of his, had recommended. Apparently the shoemaker was a Dwarf, and used to making shoes to fit Dwarven feet (shoes of which were quite large, yes, but not suitable for a Hobbit's feet). Dwarves were the best crafters, so Bilbo had decided to give it a shot. 

"Hello?" Bilbo called into the empty shop as the bell above the door tinkled pleasantly. 

"Ah, back here." A Dwarf wearing an oil stained apron above his work clothes wandered out from the back room to greet Bilbo. "How can I help you?"

 

The man was named Thorin Oakenshield, and Bilbo found him painfully attractive. 

Predictably, the store didn't have shoes Bilbo's size. They searched all day, and came up with nothing. It was extremely frustrating to say the least, but fortunately Bilbo got to know Thorin quite well in the meantime. In fact, when Bilbo left the store after having his feet carefully measured by Thorin (who knew how important feet were to Hobbits, and more importantly, who _understood_ their significance in Hobbit culture) it was with a small smile on his face and a new number in his phone. 

A number he was certainly not going to hesitate to call for something other than shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by :3
> 
> \- 
> 
> I had planned this to be much longer, but I got discouraged and had to cut it off. I've never really gotten frustrated with this fandom, but I saw some things today that really... well, _frustrated._ I had an entire thing written about it, but decided not to post it because it was ranty and not who I want to portray myself as. 
> 
> On the other hand, I am slowly getting through _Princely._ It's quite longer than expected, but I want to get it out before this month is over! I hope you can be a little more patient with me~


	9. A Romantic Notion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You wake every time I leave the bed." Thorin said quietly as he pulled Bilbo into his arms. "Are you sure you're not having nightmares anymore?"

A small, nondescript sound left Bilbo's throat as he stirred from sleep. He pressed his face further against the mountain of pillows piled onto his bed, and leisurely stretched. 

Sleepily, he rolled across the bed in search of Thorin's familiar warmth. It wasn't uncommon for Bilbo to twist and turn during the night, but he always gravitated back towards the large Dwarf come morning. When he, however, came across nothing but sheets and strewn pillows, Bilbo lifted his head.

"Thorin...?" He murmured, blinking blearily. The bed was empty when he peered into the faint darkness. 

"I'm right here, love." Thorin called out quietly, from the direction of the bathroom.

Bilbo half-heartedly huffed, and settled against Thorin's side of the blankets. It only took a moment for Thorin to wander over to the bed. The Dwarf hardly seemed to notice that Bilbo was taking over his side of the bed, and instead just climbed in and shuffled Bilbo around until he had an adequate amount of room away from the cold edge. 

"You wake every time I leave the bed." Thorin said quietly as he pulled Bilbo into his arms. "Are you sure you're not having nightmares anymore?"

"'M not." Bilbo whispered. "'S just cold when you're not here."

Thorin hummed reassuringly. His voice echoed deep in his chest, where Bilbo had his ear pressed. "Is that so?" He replied, as his hand slid down Bilbo's arm to tangle their fingers. "I still find it strange that you awaken without my presence."

Bilbo made a small groaning noise, rubbing his forehead against Thorin's chest in protest. "Think of it as romantic..." He mumbled. 

Thorin chuckled. "Romantic, huh?" He sighed. "If you wish so. Sleep well, love."


	10. A Matter Of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wakes to the sound of Kili and Fili arguing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin implied

The sound of Kili and Fili's bickering reached Bilbo's sensitive ears, stirring him from sleep. It wasn't uncommon for them to argue, in fact Bilbo expected it, but it was never malicious. Rather, Bilbo thought they two rather enjoyed bickering, as though it were a form of foreplay or excitement. 

This morning was different. Thorin wasn't in their bed when Bilbo stirred, so he assumed the Dwarf had already gone to work on something important. He was the one who quelled the rare arguments between Kili and Fili - as such a powerful Alpha, he was able to control Kili and Fili better than Bilbo could, as an Omega. It was just in their personalities, which was not to say other Omegas were as placid as Bilbo.

Their arguing was violent enough to wake Bilbo. While they weren't in the bedroom - Thorin would absolutely slaughter them if they fought in here - but the room was still slowly being saturated with dominant and ferocious scents. It was sour and made Bilbo's nose sting. He certainly didn't like it. 

Although he struggled to wake for a moment, he eventually found himself upright. Bilbo didn't particularly want to head towards the foul scent of their arguing, especially not considering the fact that his hair was probably a tangled mess and he was still wearing his night gown, but that's still what he found himself doing. 

He found the two head to head in their living room, growling and getting rough. They didn't react to Bilbo's presence in the room, not as they usually would. There wasn't even a morning greeting.

"What are you two arguing about?" Bilbo mumbled sleepily, rubbing at an eye with his knuckles. 

"This does not concern you, Bilbo." Kili snapped, baring his teeth.

Fili snarled something back at him in Khuzdul, that Bilbo couldn't understand. Kili clearly didn't appreciate that, because he shouted something back and shoved Fili hard enough to make him stumble a step back.

Bilbo felt a spike of fear trill through his blood. He didn't fear the brothers - no, he loved them with all his heart - but the scents in the room were screaming danger, and there was no conceivable way for him to subdue them. He didn't want either one of them to accidentally hurt him, so before they could he fled from the room, regardless of his appearance.

The fresh air helped clear his head, although it made him somewhat dizzy. He'd only stumbled around for a few moments before a guard found him and took him to the nearest royal guard, who just happened to be Dwalin.

"Bilbo!" Dwalin exclaimed, surprise thick in his voice. "What are ye wearing?"

Bilbo just shivered, glaring miserably at the centre of Dwalin's thick chest.

"Here, take this." Dwalin shrugged off his coat, and slipped it around Bilbo's shoulders, where it draped to pool at his feet. "You," He said to the guard, "Go find King Thorin, and tell him it's important. Now, Bilbo, tell me what's the matter."

Bilbo sighed, and pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders in an attempt to preserve at least a little bit of his dignity. "Fili and Kili are arguing." He mumbled. "The room stinks, and they wouldn't listen to me. They hardly even noticed I was there." 

Dwalin growled out a sigh, and started shuffling Bilbo back down the corridor. "Those rowdy pups, I don't know how you deal with 'em."

Bilbo shrugged loosely. He was too tired for this, he just wanted to go to sleep. He'd been sick last week, and hadn't really quite recovered yet, hence why he remained in bed for so long in the morning. 

"Don't you worry, lad." Dwalin said, slapping his shoulder. "Thorin'll fix this all up, you'll see."

"I know." Bilbo mumbled. "I just wish I could."

"Bilbo!"

The Hobbit startled at the sound of his name, but quickly welcomed Thorin's embrace. The Alpha was exuding a number of different scents that muddled Bilbo's head, a mix of worry and reassurance and something purely powerful. Thorin, however, unlike his nephews, was able to reel them in until all Bilbo smelt was something comforting and gentle. 

Bilbo busied himself with shoving his face in the crook of Thorin's neck while Dwalin murmured to him in Khuzdul. Bilbo wasn't too familiar with the language, and could only pick out a few words here and there. He had only just started learning the Dwarven speak when he became sick the week prior. 

Thorin sighed, and pressed a calming hand to the back of Bilbo's neck. "I'll deal with them, my dear. I can't believe they'd act so recklessly with you so close."

"I'm sure they don't mean it." Bilbo murmured. "I don't know what set them off."

"Yes, but if it's enough to upset our Omega then it's clearly not the right thing to do." Thorin said. He pressed a soothing kiss to Bilbo's forehead, and smoothed back stray curls from his forehead "Wait with Dwalin, alright? I'll sort this out."

"Alright." Bilbo said. He waited until Thorin brushed a small kiss against his lips, before allowing himself to smile a little. Bilbo might not always be in control of what went on in his life, not anymore, but he knew Thorin would always be around to help.


	11. Pocket-Sized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo reflects on his strange allergies.

Living in a world of magic and the subsequent races that spring forth due to its presence can be a little challenging for someone, like Bilbo, who was prone to certain... allergies. It wasn't particularly dangerous, generally, but it was problematic. 

He didn't react to all magic as if it was pollen during the middle of spring, but there were times when he reacted to it uncontrollably. One sneeze, and he'd suddenly sprout wings or have his hair turn bright pink or find himself able to breathe fire (which, in hindsight, with the constant sneezing was not a very good affliction). 

Of course, there wasn't much he could do about his strange magic-allergies. He lived where magic was an integral part of life, and magical races were around every corner. The love of his life was a _Dwarf,_ for Yavanna's sake, and even Dwarves had some small thread of magic in them. More so than humans like Bilbo, in any case.

Of course, Thorin got very twitchy when Bilbo's nose started to run or he woke up with dry eyes. Any signs of allergies put Thorin in this highly alert, protective state of mind during which he became very cautious and clingy regarding Bilbo's health. And while Bilbo adored him for it, because Thorin could be the biggest sweetheart, it was just sometimes too much for him to handle.

This time was probably going to be one of those times. 

His sniffling had started in the middle of the night, which wasn't very common. Bilbo had been restless all night, fearing he'd caught a cold, but when the sneezing started then he knew it was something more magic-related. Early morning, when the sun was starting to filter in between the gaps of the curtains, a rather wracking sneeze finally did it.

A whole host of things had happened to him when he had an allergic reaction, but he'd never shrunk to be small enough to fit into someone's _hand._

Thorin, of course, nearly fainted. He was quick to pull Bilbo from the bed sheets and the quilts before he got crushed by the weight of them, and carefully cradled Bilbo in his hands. Neither of them knew how to fix this - Bilbo's changes usually went away when his allergies did, so it was a waiting game he reluctantly had to play. 

Nevertheless, Thorin summoned Oin, their healer, and Gandalf, a kooky old Wizard who often meddled in their affairs, before taking Bilbo to hopefully have breakfast. Bilbo's clothes had thankfully shrunk with him, so although he was being carried around by Thorin he still felt comfortable enough to eat. Of course, he could only have the breadcrumbs off the edge of Thorin's plate, and a small chunk of cheese that Thorin carefully carved off for him. It was a surreal experience to be surrounded by so many tall things. 

After breakfast, Thorin gently deposited Bilbo in the inner pocket of his coat, where Bilbo remained for the rest of the day. Unsurprisingly, he still had the headache and fatigue of allergies, and he ended up slumbering for much of the day, warmed by the heat of Thorin's body. 

By the end of the day, neither Oin nor Gandalf had figured out a way to prematurely turn him back, and Thorin looked more exhausted than all of them. Carrying your beloved in your pocket could do that to a Dwarf, Bilbo thought. Thorin had taken extra care when carrying Bilbo around throughout the day, and had even forgone his regular training session with his nephews to instead ensure Bilbo remained safe and in sight.

When they returned to bed, Bilbo rested on the large pillow and watched Thorin struggle with sleep. He really did look tried, and he told Thorin so - told him that he appreciated what he did, that he loved him, that he'd never met anyone like him. And he hadn't - Bilbo would never meet anyone like Thorin again, and he never wanted to. More than anything, he just loved _being_ with Thorin. He treasured the little things - Thorin's scent on the edge of his pillow, the way Thorin would steal Bilbo's sugary cereal on a Monday morning, how Thorin's dark eyes went even darker when he was sleepy. He'd never stop treasuring those moments.

During the night Bilbo changed back to his normal size. Despite some awkward cramps he got for changing back on the now normal-sized pillow, he soon settled again. Thorin woke as soon as he was normal sized again, and pulled Bilbo into his arms for relief. He hushed Bilbo when Bilbo tried to apologise for his abnormal allergies, and told Bilbo to sleep, and that he loved him.

Bilbo simply told Thorin that he loved him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned


	12. Over Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has tea with some companions of his.

When there were meetings that required many important people of all races to gather, then keeping up with everyone could become a little chaotic. Meetings in Erebor were quite challenging with just Dwarves shouting at each other, but with Elves and Men and the odd Wizard filling the spacious halls then everything was just too much for one small Hobbit to maintain.

As such, when his husband was busy and his presence was no longer required, Bilbo liked to rest and have tea with however had escaped their own delegates for a much needed break. On this occasion, he found himself settling in his favourite sun room with a fresh pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. The room was quite and sunny and warm, a perfect place to relax one's mind, and as such he was not surprised when others joined him.

Bilbo was somewhat familiar with the faces that wandered in, and after he'd poured tea into their respective teacups he settled into the armchair by the window to take in the conversation.

Tauriel had become quite familiar with Bard's children, and although the younger two were much too inexperienced to travel the auburn-haired Elf was able to make easy and pleasant conversation with Sigrid, the eldest, who often went outside Dale's borders. She'd accompanied her father to Erebor, not only for the meetings but also because she was being trained by Fili in swordsmanship as a part of an agreement between the Dwarves and Men of Dale. Dis, Thorin's sister, had come to join them too, because there was only so much the Dwarf could handle when it came to meetings with her older brother. 

Faintly, Bilbo thought that the four of them all had one thing in common - the Durin's. It was certainly an amusing thought.

"How is training with my son going, Miss Sigrid?" Dis asked as she took a delicate sip from her teacup.

"Well, I believe." Sigrid answered politely, turning to face the Dwarf. "He's been very helpful to me."

"How strange of him." Dis teased, chuckling. "Do tell me if he oversteps any boundaries, he tends to do so without realising it, even when without his equally problematic brother by his side."

Bilbo smiled faintly. Fili and Kili were quite rambunctious, yes, but he wouldn't change them for the world. 

Sigrid laughed quietly. "Oh, no, he's been quite polite! He's even offered me advice."

Dis quirks a brow. "Oh, has he now? On what?"

Sigrid turned faintly red. "Ah, well, there's a suitor from Dale I'm... _interested_ in, is all..."

Dis looked faintly surprised, but smiled gently nevertheless. "I'm glad he's not making a fool of himself, then. I hope that Kili is being equally polite towards you, Miss Tauriel."

The pretty Elf smiled faintly. "He's quite energetic." She answered. 

Dis laughed. "That he is! I don't know where he gets it from."

"From Fili, most likely." Bilbo said, waving a hand. "They do it to each other."

Dis nodded approving. "That they do! While I am checking in on all my family members, I might as well ask after my dearest brother. He's not being too much of a stubborn wrench, is he?"

Bilbo laughed at her choice of words. Only Dis would dare call the King Under the Mountain a _stubborn wrench._ "He's quite forgiving, actually." Bilbo smiled bashfully.

"And he treats you right?"

"Of course!"

"That's good." Dis nodded solemnly. "I'd have to teach him a thing or two if he dare mistreat his consort."

Bilbo chuckled. The others looked amused at Dis' antics, but it was hard not to be. She was an enigmatic and soulful person, and it was easy to get along with her. From meeting her, it was clear to see where her sons got their friendly natures from. She certainly exuded feelings of acceptance and honesty. 

A knock on the door almost startled him. A moment later, Thorin himself peered in, eyes searching.

"Is it lunch time already?" Bilbo asked, placing his cup down. "I didn't realise."

"Am I interrupting?" Thorin questioned quietly.

Bilbo smiled, and shook his head. "I'll be taking my leave now, then." He told his companions. "I hope to see you once more, before you all leave Erebor."

He received a round of goodbyes, and made his way to Thorin's side. They always shared meals together, and Bilbo wouldn't give up that time for anything. If he heard Sigrid murmur _"how romantic"_ behind him, or Tauriel's quiet murmurings of agreement, he pretended not to.

His time with Thorin meant more than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by fgalaxy_0418~


	13. In A Phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili are going through a phase.
> 
> Bilbo is less than pleased.

Bilbo's adoring little nephew, Frodo, was the most affectionate child he'd ever had the pleasure of coming across. It wasn't uncommon for Frodo to link their hands as they walked, or to hold onto the hem of Bilbo's shirt, or to clamber into his lap whenever it happened to be free. He loved cuddles, and hadn't seemed to enter that phase children went through when a parent's affection was embarrassing.

And boy did Bilbo know what that phase looked like. 

Thorin's nephews, Fili and Kili, were tucked firmly out of Bilbo's arms and into that particular age. They thought Thorin and Bilbo embarrassed them more than they should, and although Bilbo found it amusing he wondered if the boys really had grown out of being affectionate. They were very cuddly when they were younger, and weren't afraid to climb all over both Thorin and Bilbo whenever they wished. 

Of course, the brothers aside, Frodo wasn't just affectionate with Bilbo. He loved being carried around by Thorin, and wasn't afraid to tangle his little fingers in Thorin's hair or rub his little nose against Thorin's, grinning all the while. He was much too cute for Bilbo to handle sometimes.

Fili and Kili often scoffed at Frodo's behaviour, though Frodo never seemed to care. Bilbo knew the boys meant nothing by it, and were just being their usually feisty selves, but it got to him sometimes. He loved all his children more than anything in the world, and always wished that they'd grow up and remain as close to Thorin and himself as much as possible. 

"They're just being rebellious." Thorin would tell him comfortingly, soothing Bilbo's worries with large hands and gentle kisses. "Don't take it to heart."

Still, Bilbo wanted them to stop being rebellious and go back to being affectionate. He knew they weren't truly adverse to affection, because they would still sometimes climb into Thorin and Bilbo's bed at night or let Bilbo brush and braid their hair in the morning.

One day, when Frodo was busy mapping out the planes of Thorin's face with his little hands and avoiding the teasing nips Thorin aimed at his fingertips, Bilbo felt more disheartened then usual. The boys were making embarrassed expressions and looking like they wanted to be anywhere else.

"Do you want to watch a movie with me, boys?" Bilbo asked hopefully. They _always_ cuddled when they watched movies, even more so when he let them choose the film to watch.

Kili wrinkled his nose. "Nuh uh!"

"We're too _old _to do that anymore, Uncle Bilbo." Fili nodded. "We're _mature."___

__Bilbo's disheartened feeling only sunk lower into his stomach, like a big, unneeded rock. "O-oh, alright then." He said, forcing a smile. "I'm just going to go... make tea! Yes, I'll go make tea."_ _

__He escaped into the kitchen as fast as he could, feeling his bottom lip tremble. He scolded himself harshly as he flicked the kettle on and took a seat at the kitchen table, pressing his face into his hands. He didn't want to cry, he was a grown man for goodness sake, but the thought of his boys not needing him anymore really got to him._ _

__"Bilbo, love?" Thorin edged into the kitchen, holding a quiet Frodo on his hip. "Are you alright?"_ _

__"Fine!" Bilbo sniffled, straightening his back in an attempt to appear less... defeated. "Perfectly fine! Want some tea? I'm making tea."_ _

__"Bilbo..." Thorin shuffled closer, pressing a large hand to the back of his shoulder. "Are you crying?"_ _

__"No!" Bilbo answered quickly. "N-no..."_ _

__A trembling frown came to Frodo's face. "Uncle Bilbo's crying." He said. A ferocious pout pushed out his bottom lip. "Kili and Fili made Uncle Bilbo cry!" He shouted before Thorin could hush him._ _

__"I'm not crying..." Bilbo warbled, pressing his face into his hands again. "I'm not..."_ _

__"Uncle Bilbo?"_ _

__Bilbo glanced up, eyes infuriatingly wet, to find both Kili and Fili creeping into the room looking much like wounded puppies. Bilbo's heart always ached when they donned expressions like that, it truly tugged on the heartstrings._ _

__"We didn't mean to make you cry." Kili whimpered, eyes filling with tears._ _

__"Why are you crying?" Fili asked, gripping Kili's arm tightly as his eyes got just as wet._ _

__Bilbo sniffled again, turning his head away. His didn't want to make them upset just because he was having a moment._ _

__"I think it's the way you two have been acting lately." Thorin answered as gently as possible. "Uncle Bilbo really loves you, you know? And you've been saying you don't want to cuddle him anymore, it's like saying you don't love him as much as you used to."_ _

__"But... but..." Kili looked positively upset as he glanced back and forth between Bilbo and Thorin like he didn't know where to look._ _

__"That's not true!" Fili cried as he ran forwards to force his way up into Bilbo's lap, ignoring the way the chair wobbled dangerously. Fili looped his arms around Bilbo's neck tightly, fingers gripping fistfuls of Bilbo's curly hair. "That's not true."_ _

__"It's not!" Kili agreed, tugging at Bilbo's shirt insistently as he fought to squeeze his way into the remaining space on Bilbo's lap, however little it was. He placed his hands flat against Bilbo's collarbones, cheeks red with withheld tears._ _

__Bilbo held them as close as he possibly could. He could feel that they were trembling, or at least one of them was, but the two of them were so close that they were better considered as one. His babies were growing up._ _

__"Don't cry anymore." Kili whispered, pressing his cheek against Bilbo's shoulder as he curled his fingers into the neckline of Bilbo's sweater. "Okay?"_ _

__Bilbo only felt the tears coming on faster. Ignoring the way Thorin smiled fondly and bent down to join him with Frodo and the boys for one big hug, he held back his sniffles. He really loved his family. "I'm not crying!"_ _


	14. Rise And Shine (Or Not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lazy mornings are best spent with a warm Dwarf.

Waking up in the morning was not Bilbo's favourite thing to do. He loved to luxuriate in the collected warmth of a good night's rest, and was easily lulled back to sleep by morning sunshine and soft pillows. If he was truly reluctant to move, then it was unlikely he'd leave the bed until second breakfast.

Thorin was much different, Bilbo found. He sometimes woke at the smallest sound, and was easy to wake most mornings. While he could still be grumpy and disgruntled like the best of people, he didn't often lounge around in bed for long, not like Bilbo.

As such, when Bilbo woke before Thorin on those rare mornings when the stoic Dwarf was reluctant to rouse, Bilbo liked to watch him. He didn't often get to admire Thorin's sleeping expressions, and found that he rather admired how relaxed sleep made Thorin look. There was something quite serene and soft to the way his features slackened in sleep, not the rough, light sleep of travel and nightmares but of a deep, well-rested slumber. 

Thorin didn't like it when Bilbo watched him sleep. He complained that the morning was wasted when Bilbo didn't rouse him, that they weren't being productive. And although Bilbo knew he was right, he always took advantage of these moments, if just to see Thorin flush as he first opened his eyes to find Bilbo already awake. Besides, Bilbo knew Thorin did the same thing to him every other morning, seeing as the Dwarf always woke before him. 

This morning, it didn't take long for the Dwarf to rouse. Bilbo laid carefully still, watching the way Thorin's brow crinkled and his eyes opened, irises daker than usual. He looked like he wanted to yawn, but didn't, and instead he focused his sleepy eyes on Bilbo.

"You awake?" He mumbled. 

Bilbo smiled faintly, and lifted a hand to run his knuckles down Thorin's stubbly cheek. "Good morning."

"Should of woken me." Thorin said, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Bilbo's lips. 

"You know I wouldn't, unless you had something important to attend to." Bilbo chuckled, lazily rubbing his nose against Thorin's affectionately. "But you do not, so won't you spend some time in bed with me?"

Thorin watched him for a moment, before letting out a breath. "If it is what my consort wishes, then it is what he shall have."

Bilbo smiled again, and pressed himself against Thorin's warm chest. He knew Thorin was too proud to ever admit enjoying being lazy, but Bilbo still knew it to be true. After all, Thorin always seemed better rested like this. Bilbo always felt a little closer to him when they spent time together doing nothing in particular. When they could be bothered to move from bed, they would attend breakfast together, as they did any other morning, before parting to carry out their daily duties.

Until then, Bilbo was content to rest cradled under Thorin's thick arm. He loved Thorin more than anything, and would always cherish these times.

Besides, Thorin was warm and comfy. Hobbits _loved_ warm and comfy things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was awful - hence the short length of this.
> 
> Ugh.


	15. Beastly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His kingdom plagued by a ferocious dragon, Thorin Oakenshield turns to the only person who can help.
> 
> A dragon tamer.

"A dragon, you say?"

"Yes." Thorin answered. "A dragon. What do we do about it?"

Gandalf hummed thoughtfully as smoke drifted out of the end of his pipe. "I do not know how you expect me to help you, Thorin Oakenshield."

"You're a _wizard."_ Thorin growled. "Can you not do anything?"

"Yes, a wizard." Gandalf agreed. "Not a dragon tamer. There isn't any way for me to be rid of a dragon, lest I fancy being roasted to a blackened crisp. Have you thought of slaying it yourself?"

"We cannot." Thorin answered gruffly, clenching his fists. "It's too large, it tore apart the supports in the treasury as well as the main gates when it entered our mountain. It's stolen our riches, and driven us from our home."

Again, the wizard made a humming noise. "What if I said I could find you a dragon tamer?"

 

"No."

"Won't you even hear me out?"

"I said no."

"Bilbo Baggins, you are the most stubborn-"

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, and ignored the way Sting began to growl at the old wizard. "I told you, Gandalf, I no longer wish to traipse around the world risking my life to tame dragons that just get _killed_ by the people that hire me as soon as they stop baring their teeth! I'm content here, thank you very much."

"But is Sting?"

Bilbo startled at that, and shot the wizard a sour look. "I'll have you know my dragon if perfectly fine, _thank you very much!"_

And with that, he slammed the door shut. 

However much he was bothered by the wizard, the words of their conversation stuck in his head. He knew better than anyone the whims of dragons, how they dreamed and conversed and what their preferences were. He knew how they _lived,_ how they gained freedom and what they believed in and all the things they enjoyed.

He was rather more in tuned with dragons than people, he thought. Which in itself was kind of pathetic, but he didn't care.

"Are you truly happy with this life, Sting?" Bilbo sighed, turning to his companion.

The dragon tilted his head as he stared back at Bilbo, rumbling out an inquisitive noise. Sting was big enough for Bilbo to ride, but was one of the smaller dragon species he'd come across. Despite his smaller size, he was a very capable fighter, and could quickly assert dominance. While generally docile and playful, he was quite vain, which Bilbo thought came from both a high level of intelligence and a dry sense of humour. 

Sting was a dragon that was native to this side of the earth. His scales were smooth and flat-lying, and coloured a dark green that appeared black on most occasions. Sting could blend into grasses and forests well, and with his large wings and dexterous tail he was a swift and effective flyer. His defences consisted of claws, fairly sharp rows of teeth on both his upper and lower jaw and, of course, his ability to breath a moderate amount of fire. His real specialty, however, and where his namesake came from, was the poison-like substance in his saliva that stung more than anything Bilbo had ever felt. 

Still, Sting wasn't much of a fighter. Much like Bilbo, he erred on the side of caution, and wasn't easily roused into fights - unless threatened or angry, as was with most dragons. Even so, Bilbo knew that Sting's species weren't sedentary, but rather they moved from forest to forest with the seasons. They were creatures of a wild nature, and although a dragon could be tamed, was it really his place to do so?

They were thoughts that plagued him. 

Sting, as if sensing his turmoil, made a soft cooing sound and pressed his head against Bilbo's palm. Bilbo sighed deeply, and ran his palm across Sting's head, carefully avoiding the sensitive, thick whisker-like protrusions around his ears. 

"You'd tell me if you were unhappy, wouldn't you bud?" Bilbo said.

Sting trilled at him, patting a thick paw at Bilbo's legs insistently.

Bilbo lifted both hands to scratch under the dragon's head. "Maybe it is time we went back out there, huh? I just don't know if I can do it anymore." For a moment, old, lingering pains resurfaced. He closed his eyes as if that could ward them off, and let himself breathe deeply. 

Sting rumbled out a whine, and rubbed his cheek against Bilbo's head.

"Alright, alright," Bilbo huffed, shoving him away as saliva got into his hair, "Enough of that, now. I've got some packing to do..."

 

"I knew you'd come." 

Bilbo growled to himself. "Don't act smug, wizard." He snapped. "I'm not doing this for you, or for anyone else. You have work for me - don't deny it, I know you do, or else you would have never come to bother me. Tell me, what is it you would have me do?"

Gandalf watched him curiously, eyeing the complacent dragon at his side - complacent for the moment. "I was approached by a Dwarf." He started. "Their home has been sieged by a dragon - a large one."

"Let me guess, it was attracted to their gold?" Bilbo shook his head. "Such a greedy race. It's their own fault, you know."

"Yes, well." Gandalf chose not to answer that. "In either case, there is nought they can do unless they either drive it out or tame it."

"They cannot tame a dragon."

"Precisely." Gandalf nodded. "That is where you come in, my friend. Lives will be lost if the situation is not addressed, and I know you would not wish that upon any soul. The Dwarves have no place to live unless their brethren in the Blue Mountains can find room, and even then that is a far way to travel without any provisions, and the dragon so fiercely guards their halls that they will die if they enter to gather the things they need."

"How far away do they live?" Bilbo frowned. He'd found Gandalf in Bree - that is where they met at this moment. "The Blue Mountains are not far from here, on the other side of the Shire." 

"Their kingdom is Erebor." Gandalf murmured. "Past Mirkwood, on the other side of Esgaroth."

Bilbo frowned harder. "That's past the Misty Mountains! Dragons from that far north are much different to the ones I know. How can you be sure I can tame it?"

"Because I believe no one else _can."_

 

Sting was a swift flyer, and large enough for Bilbo to ride along with his pack. He didn't carry much, reluctant to weigh down his companion, so with his mind set on reaching The Lonely Mountain the two took to the sky.

If nothing else, the exercise was good for Sting. They didn't have the opportunity to fly this rigorously in the Shire, and deep down Bilbo thought he might of missed it. Sting, too. 

It took a week to reach the Misty Mountains, and another two days to find a rocky outcrop to rest at while they passed through Mirkwood. From here, Bilbo found that he could see The Lonely Mountain. While he watched the sunset with Sting, who rested his travel weary wings beside him, Bilbo thought he understood where the mountain gained its name.

It looked lonely, yes, but there was something more to it. He'd always wondered how dwarves could live confined in mountains where it was dark and damp and cold, but there was something elusive about the way the mountain looked. It looked like home, not his own, but someone's. He felt like he could understand why the Dwarves wanted it back.

He just didn't know if he could be the person to return it to them. 

The flight towards Erebor was one Bilbo took slower. A pack of little dragons, smaller even than Bilbo, joined them for a brief amount of time. They playfully nipped at wisps of Bilbo's hair, and tangled their long, thin tails between his outstretched fingers. They tried to nip at Sting, too, but Bilbo's friend quickly put them back in their place. It made him laugh to watch, because the dragons were so much smaller than Sting. If Sting had wanted to, he very well could have swallowed one whole.

They passed over Esgaroth as the sun set. Bilbo watched, mesmerised, as the heads of dragons popped out of the water to glance at Sting's shadow as it passed over the surface. Sting dipped lower, low enough to brush the tips of his wings against the surface. The dragons quickly disappeared as the water rippled. Bilbo wondered if they'd ever seen a dragon like Sting, let alone someone riding one.

Erebor was oddly quiet when Sting began to approach it. He let out a discomforted sound, large green eyes glancing back up at Bilbo. 

Bilbo reached forwards out of the saddle to press a comforting hand to the side of Sting's head. "Yeah, I know, bud. It's certainly not the Shire, is it?"

The dragon just tossed his head, and began to descend. Bilbo gripped the saddle tighter, squinting his eyes at the rush of air. It was getting too dark for him to see, but he knew Sting could see much better than any Hobbit, even more so than Elves, too. 

"Did Gandalf not say the Dwarves were displaced?" Bilbo mumbled to himself. "Where can a whole kingdom of Dwarves hide themselves?" 

Suddenly, a weighted net shot through the air. Sting let out a roar as he dived to avoid it, twisting through the air viciously. Bilbo cried out at the jarring movement, briefly lifting out of the saddle. He'd never been more glad that he'd installed straps to keep him in place. 

"What the hell was that?" Bilbo shouted He couldn't see where it came from, but then suddenly another net soared through the air. Sting roared again as the net coiled around his body, the ropes moved by the momentum of the weights attached to its edges. Bilbo cried out in pain as he was forced flat against Sting's back, but his voice was lost in the sound Sting made as his wings were forced down. The both of them plummeted to the ground without any way of stopping.

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact. 

 

He woke to the sound of Sting roaring and growling ferociously. It couldn't have been more than a few moments, because he could tell he was still bound to Sting's back. He gasped in pain as he tried to pull himself up, but the ropes were too strong. 

"What are you doing?" A voice boomed. "That's a dragon rider, not a wild beast!"

Sting let out territorial growl, snapping his jaws in the direction of the people that approached cautiously. He let loose a shot of fire that scorched the ground, the smoke of which gave off a scent Bilbo knew meant Sting had coated it in poison. He tried to muster the words to warn them away from the sparks and scorch marks, but he found that his head was swimming too much to form any coherent words. 

"Calm down, dragon." The man said as he approached. "I'm going to cut you loose, okay?"

Sting just growled, tail thrashing as best as it could in the confines of the rope. Bilbo groaned, and attempted to soothe his agitated dragon, but when Sting got like this it was hard to quell him. 

When the man approached, Bilbo realised he was in fact not a man, but rather a Dwarf. The Dwarves might have been residing in Dale, then, if they were mingling with Men and the trapping devices of humans, like these nets. Bilbo knew Dwarves preferred axes and hammers - sturdy weapons, very unlike the trickster ones of Men.

"Are you alright?" The Dwarf asked, as he cautiously crouched down beside Sting to take a small dagger to the ropes. His eyes were a deep, dark blue that Bilbo thought could of reflected the stars and all the things he felt when he flew with Sting. 

Bilbo just stared, fingers curling against Sting's scales. He felt one rope loosen, then a second, and he was suddenly free. He tried to sit up, but his head spun, and he slipped from the saddle without meaning to. The Dwarf dove to catch him, wincing at Sting's fearsome roar. 

"That's just a beast!" A man with a crossbow aimed at Sting's head yelled. "It should be put down!"

Bilbo jerked at that, reaching out a shaky hand. "Leave him...!" He gasped.

Sting's wings suddenly burst free from the loosened ropes at the sound of Bilbo's voice. His pupils were nothing more than thin slits. He let lose a column of smouldering flames that were hot enough to sear the air. A man started screaming as his arm was caught in the blaze.

"It stings! It stings!"

Sting spun around, and opened his jaws at Thorin. Deep in his throat a blaze burned brightly, the warning sign of impending flames.

Bilbo reached out his hand further, pressing his palm to Sting's nose. "Sting, calm down."

The blaze disappeared as Sting snapped his jaws shut. In a burst of energy, he lunged forwards and grabbed Bilbo with both front paws before launching himself into the sky. Bilbo cried out and gripped Sting's leg tightly, and willed himself to stay conscious. 

It didn't work.


	16. Beastly Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes contact with the Dwarves.

Sting was on edge and growling to himself when Bilbo roused. He found himself tucked securely under Sting's wing, completely in the dark. When he made an inquisitive noise, the dragon retracted his wing and twisted his head down to take a glance at Bilbo.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He said, even as he winced. "Just a little bruised, nothing broken. I think."

Sting huffed, and blew a wisp of smoke across Bilbo's nose. 

Bilbo settled against Sting's stomach, and didn't move even when Sting's wing came down across his lap. "I'm glad to see you're not hurt, bud." He murmured. 

Sting cooed a him, and pressed his nose against Bilbo's hair.

Bilbo sighed, and closed his eyes to lessen the pain in his head. He could feel an awful headache coming on, and wondered if he'd hit it on Sting when they'd plummeted towards the ground. He certainly felt a bruise forming, and just hoped that it wouldn't swell too badly. He didn't have anything to treat it on him.

For a moment, he thought back to the confrontation. It certainly wasn't the Dwarves that had struck them from the sky, and it had been a Dwarf to cut the ropes from Sting. To Bilbo, it didn't seem as though it was the Dwarves that were a threat, but rather the Men in Dale. That in itself was a problem, because the Dwarves of Erebor were residing in Dale, and Bilbo would be hard pressed to communicate with them if they didn't leave.

Honestly, what did Gandalf expect him to do in this sort of situation? Bilbo was curious about the dragon in the mountain, yes, but was he particularly driven to see it? No. He didn't know if this journey was worth going on, if all that was going to happen were injuries and judgments. Men in particular couldn't understand dragons, and aimed to maim and kill them. They weren't an understanding race, and for that Bilbo detested them. It seemed none were willing to believe dragons were anything other than beasts. Wizards, perhaps, had an understanding of the animals, and often Elves were reluctant to kill. The rest, however, Bilbo could do without.

Other Hobbits included.

"What should we do, Sting?" Bilbo asked absently. "I doubt the Dwarves would appreciate us leaving - why, they'd never get back into their home if we did! The Men, however, I shall not help at all." He rubbed his hand against Sting's scaly side. "Especially not when all they wish to do is harm you. What do you think, bud?"

Sting trilled inquisitively, tilting his head to the side as his ears perked up. 

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. "How about we wait until nightfall." Bilbo said. It was nearing morning now, he assumed. "Give us a chance to rest, find you some food. Then we'll circle back around the mountain, if you're up for it."

Sting just blew another wisp of smoke at him.

 

There was a running stream not too far from where Sting had taken him. Bilbo found it to be fresh water, running clear and strong. It was drinkable, and when he'd had his hands cupped in the cool liquid he'd found that there were fish dancing around the bottom of the river.

Of course, as soon as Sting had caught sight of the fish he'd gone and dived right in. The silly thing ate at least a dozen of them before thoughtfully tossing one at Bilbo, of which thrashed and squirmed in his hands so expectantly that he dropped it right back into the water! Sting had croaked out a weird string of husky sounds that Bilbo knew to be laughter, or at least the dragon equivalent, which had him rolling his eyes. 

Eventually Sting drew himself from the water, but not after he filled his jaws with enough fish to fill his belly once more. Bilbo had a small fire going when the dragon slouched down next to him, the pile of fish tumbling from his jaws. Bilbo snagged one for himself when Sting wasn't looking, and left it roast over the fire as they began to watch the sun set. 

It truly did cast a beautiful light on The Lonely Mountain, and once again he was struck with a feeling of nostalgia that he was hard-pressed to place. He was reminded of home, somewhere deep inside. It was a strange feeling, but a pleasurable one. He was enraptured by the sight of the mountain like he hadn't been since his mother had held im high enough to watch the rolling green hills of the Shire turn orange in the basking glow of a dusk sun.

As night fell, Bilbo extinguished the fire and mounted Sting. The dragon propelled himself into the air and with that they began the short trip to the mountain's edge. Bilbo thought that with the darkness of night and with distance between them and the lights of Dale that none would catch sight of them. He was reluctant to return anywhere near the Men, as they were too brash, and too naïve. They could not understand dragons, and therefore they would be unable to understand Bilbo. More than anything, he wanted to keep Sting safe and content. The dragon deserved at least that much in life.

They circled the curve of the mountain, observing its silent ridges and outcrops of carved stone. Bilbo could hardly see past Sting's nose, but he trusted the dragon to point out anything unusual. He trusted the dragon with his life, actually. 

"Down there, Sting." Bilbo steered him towards the ramparts at the front entrance, of which had been collapsed in, most likely by the dragon. Sting dropped down onto the structure, growling under his breath. From here, Bilbo could see into the deserted halls of Erebor and out across the path to Dale. 

It was a rather marvellous view.

"What do you think, bud?" Bilbo asked quietly, rubbing Sting's neck as comfortingly as possible. "Sense anything?"

Sting just growled, shaking his head and snapping his jaws. His pupils were thinned, and he was baring his teeth in the direction of the inner halls of Erebor. 

"Alright, let's go then." Bilbo murmured. Sting wasted no time in launching himself into the air, wings beating soundlessly as he climbed high up into the sky. Bilbo held onto the saddle tightly, and let Sting shake off his nerves. Sting wasn't the type of dragon to be intimidated by others - he had no reason to be, as he was of one of the more powerful breeds. If he was truly shaken by whatever was in that mountain, then Bilbo thought he had no business entering it.

Sting made a little rumble and turned towards a light in the forest. Bilbo peered closer, carefully angling Sting into the shadows, but from this distance he couldn't make out exactly what race those around the campfire were of. He couldn't see any large dragon-trapping weapons, but that didn't quite reassure him.

"Take us in a little closer, bud." Bilbo murmured. Sting rumbled in reply, and dipped his wings lower. They entered a gentle glide, and as they dipped closer Bilbo made out the distinctive body shape of Dwarves. He sighed to himself, and steered Sting in lower.

The dragon dropped into the clearing with a challenging roar. The Dwarves shouted in surprise, and drew their weapons, but a warning shot of fire from Sting had them backing off. Curiously enough, Bilbo recognised the Dwarf from the previous day amongst the company. 

"Are you the dragon rider the wizard spoke of?" The Dwarf asked, arm outstretched to halt his companions.

Sting growled warningly, wings outstretched to make him appear larger. Bilbo placed a hand on his neck, and nodded at the Dwarf. Who else could he be? None would dare to ride a dragon, lest they tame it, and none could tame dragons like he could. 

"My name is Thorin Oakenshield." The Dwarf said, lowering his arm. 

"Bilbo Baggins." Bilbo murmured, eyeing the Dwarves curiously. "Is it your mountain ravaged by a dragon?"

Thorin nodded. "Aye, it is." He said. "I asked for your help."

Sting growled louder, and spat out another searing column of fire. Dwarves jumped out of its path, ignoring the smoke that billowed up from the scorched grass in favour of shouting.

"Control your beast, laddie!"

Bilbo tried not to sneer. "He's not mine, Dwarf." He snapped. "And I do not think he appreciates being shot from the sky!"

Sting roared his approval, flaring his wings again. 

Thorin roughly said something to his companions in the Dwarven tongue of Khuzdul, and they backed off. "It was not my order to shoot you down." Thorin said. "Had I known that was what would have happened, I would done something to prevent it. I must apologise for what has happened."

Sting snapped his jaws shut, and eyed the Dwarf suspiciously, much like Bilbo did. Thorin seemed honest enough, and Sting hadn't found any reason to roast him just yet. That was enough for Bilbo.

"Regardless, I'm here for one thing only." Bilbo murmured, slipping out of Sting's saddle despite the dragon's reluctant noises. "Though I cannot promise you anything."

Thorin nodded. "I understand." He said. "But if you could try... I would forever be in your debt."

Bilbo wanted to say that he desired nothing from these Dwarves, but he supposed that wasn't entirely true. He _did_ want something, but he was unsure the Dwarves would give it. No one ever had before. Either way, he was going to see this out. If the situation started to turn in a direction he did not wish it to, then he would no longer continue working for the Dwarves.

He hoped they realised that.

 

"What is his name?"

"It's Sting." Bilbo said, glancing up at his dragon. He'd joined the Dwarven company around their camp. As it turned out, they'd travelled to Erebor to once again assess the situation and in an attempt to locate Bilbo after Sting had flown off with him, just in case he was still around. Their healer, a man named Oin, had taken a look at his head - Bilbo was surprised he didn't faint being so close to Sting. He certainly looked like he would.

Thorin was watching Sting with an air of curiosity that had Sting on edge. Most looked at him in fear, or disgust. Bilbo thought he might of wanted to like the attention, but it was too foreign. Either way, Bilbo didn't mind. Sting was certainly quite a marvellous creature, and Thorin was respecting him. The other Dwarves - not so much. 

"What kind of name is that?" One Dwarf scoffed.

Sting growled, and shot a burst of bright fire at the Dwarf, who cried out as it seared the top of his hand. 

"It stings! What kind of flame is that?" He shouted, enraged.

Bilbo leaned against Sting's side firmer, stopping the dragon from leaping to his feet. "You have your answer." Bilbo said. "I wouldn't provoke him. If any of that gets in your blood, I'm not willing to save you."

The Dwarf glowered.

Sting growled again.

Bilbo let out a breath and turned his gaze away. "Tell me of the dragon."

Thorin watched him with dark eyes. "It's large." He said immediately, without questioning Bilbo's order. "With a long neck and a wide wingspan. It can breathe fire that's at a higher temperature than any other dragon I've seen."

"And the dragon's jaws? Tail?"

"The dragon's tail is long, and flexible." Thorin frowned for a moment. "The jaw... the lower jaw is somewhat larger than the upper, with teeth on both layers."

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. Sting hadn't reacted well to the presence of the other dragon, and the Dwarf's description of it didn't seem positive. A large wingspan and flexible tail meant that the dragon could probably fly extremely well and extremely fast. Its size probably eluded to intelligence, too, though there was a slim possibility it wasn't all that smart. Bilbo knew the dragon was attracted to the hoards of gold Dwarves coveted, so it did have instincts driving its behaviour. 

"Has it killed?" He asked.

"Many." Thorin answered, clenching his fists. "It caused destruction in our halls, crushed people, burned others... it was relentless."

_It wanted your gold. Your race brought this upon themselves._

"What do you think of it?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo raised his brows, and felt his interest in this Dwarf pique. That wasn't a common questioned asked of him. "I think it's dangerous." Bilbo said. "A good flyer, a hoarder, driven by instinct rather than intelligence - which is not to say it's not clever." He paused for a moment. "I fear it's one of the largest dragons I've come across."

"Can you tame it?"

Bilbo glanced at Sting. The dragon trilled at him. "Possibly." He answered. "But I make no assertions, and don't hold me to my word. If it proves to be too dangerous, then I suggest you find yourselves a new home."


	17. Beastly Pt.III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wonders what could possibly be so special about Thorin Oakenshield.

"I'll take the first watch."

Those of Thorin's company stared at Bilbo suspiciously, as though they didn't trust him to leave them in the wilderness unprotected. Or perhaps they didn't trust Sting, which although was quite wise was also frustrating. Bilbo couldn't blame them for that, as at one point even he'd feared the dragon, but their cooperation would have been nice.

"That's fine." Thorin answered quickly, much to the discontent of his companions. He eyed them for a moment, but told them nothing. "I'll join you."

Bilbo tilted his head to the side, but made no comment. "Fine by me." He placed a hand on Sting's shoulder, drawing the dragon's attention. "Let's go, bud. We'll found an outcrop." 

Sting rumbled at him, and hauled himself upright to follow Bilbo through the trees. There was a stack of rocks overlooking the rough terrain towards Dale just out of earshot of the camp that Bilbo found to be appropriate. He wasn't much of a climber, and even as he scrambled up the rocks Sting was nudging him up with his head. It always made Bilbo give him a withering look, but Sting just offered him what could only be interpreted as a somewhat creepy grin, like he knew just how much their size difference often hindered Bilbo.

But really, having a dragon's nose shoving at his arse wasn't a very comfortable feeling.

When he finally made it to the flat top, he let out a sigh and turned his eyes to the sky. He was surprised no wild dragons had approached them, as what often the case. Maybe the presence of the Dwarves scared them off. 

Sting's ears shot up and he let out a little growl that startled Bilbo. The Hobbit soothed him with a hand, knowing it was just Thorin coming to join them. No dragon would be so loud, loud enough for Bilbo to hear - it was Thorin's way of notifying them of his presence, which Bilbo thought was strangely clever. If he'd not done so, Sting surely wouldn't have been happy. 

It took Thorin a moment longer to scale the rocks than Bilbo, but then again he didn't have a dragon helping him. He was cautious of Sting when he approached to take a seat beside Bilbo, but didn't seem to take Sting's growling to heart. 

"How long have you known your dragon?" Thorin asked, glancing between the two of them as he settled on the rock. "You seem quite familiar."

"I've known Sting for the better part of twenty years." He replied. "He was juvenile when I met him, but I was just a child, too."

"I've never seen his breed before."

"Expected." Bilbo replied. "They're not native to this area."

"You know quite a lot about dragons, then?"

"Naturally." Bilbo stared at Sting out of the corner of his eye, watching as Sting's nostrils twitched as he scented the air. Bilbo wondered if he was familiarising himself with Thorin's scent, or trying to detect wild dragons in the immediate area. "I know more of dragons than of people!"

Thorin gave him a curious look. "I've never met a dragon tamer." He said. "You are not what I expected."

"Is that so?"

"Never met a Hobbit, either." Thorin said. "You look more like a grocer than a dragon tamer, if I'm being honest."

It was a subtle insult vaguely hidden under a light tone of voice. None have ever dared speak in such a way to Bilbo before, not with his dragon around, and it sent a strange sense of thrill through him. No one had ever given off such an air before, either. He wondered what could possibly be so special about Thorin Oakenshield.

"But I know better than to make assumptions based on one's appearance." Thorin continued. "Tell me, what do you truly think of this situation? I can see your mind working it over, just behind your eyes. You know more about this than you've said."

"Then you've watched my face." Bilbo's lips twitched up. He ignored the way Sting thumped his tail in an almost jealous manner, pressing his nose insistently against Bilbo's head. Bilbo complacently lifted a hand to scratch under his chin. "You won't like what I have to say, King Under the Mountain."

Thorin had the decency to look a tad embarrassed, though he didn't flinch at the title as Bilbo would have expected him to. "I don't like having a dragon run my people from their home, either. It would be best not to sugar-coat the truths of this situation, not when your insight could help prevent it. Tell me, dragon rider."

Bilbo was starting to understand this Dwarf a little more. Devastatingly loyal, yes, and willing to bear a burden none other would have even noticed - he was smart, Bilbo thought. Very smart. "Then I'll tell you." Bilbo said. "You brought the dragon on yourselves. Your race is needlessly greedy, stubborn, and painfully thick-headed. Had you not been so stricken with a desire for gold and yet more gold, and had you valued home above such materialistic tendencies, no dragon would have stolen from you your mountain."

Thorin's brows knitted together rather angrily, but he made no move to defend against Bilbo's cruel insults. "Then the dragon was attracted to the gold?" He questioned instead.

"Without a doubt." Bilbo turned to glance at the night sky dismissively. "The world would be a much better place, Thorin Oakenshield," He said wistfully, "If everyone could learn to value home and living above the glitter of gold."

Thorin's anger seemed to simmer into nothingness. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I'm still going to try to remove the dragon." Bilbo said. "But I don't believe... I don't think it'll be easy, if at all possible. It's likely the dragon has claimed the mountain as it's territory, and I doubt the Dwarves would be willing to share."

Thorin glanced away.

"Exactly." Bilbo huffed. "You just don't understand dragons, don't even make an attempt to. Dwarves are just like every other race out there. Even my own." He muttered bitterly.

Thorin looked dubious, but said nothing. "That sounds like a grudge." He observed. "You favour dragons over your own?"

"Of course." Bilbo snorted. He scratched at Sting's chin until the dragon let out a husky, purr-like noise in pleasure. "More reliable, less gossip. Sting is my family now, aren't you bud?"

The dragon cooed, breathing out smoke through his nostrils. 

"And your parents?"

"Dead."

"I apologise." Thorin looked startled at that, but remained composed. "How did they die?"

Oddly enough, Bilbo appreciated the direct nature of the question. "Sting killed them."

_"What?"_

"It wasn't his fault." Bilbo murmured. Sting made a soft noise, eyes lowering as he dipped his head under Bilbo's chin. "Ever heard of the Fell Winter?"

"No."

"Wouldn't have expected you to." Bilbo huffed. The most tragic event in his entire life, in the lives of his people, hadn't been tragic enough to spread past Bree, not even in rumours. How pathetic. "When I was a child, a large flock of dragons attacked the Shire. Many breathed ice, and as such all our fields and homes were utterly frozen. Destroyed. People were killed, and those unlucky enough to survive starved to death without the land to cultivate food. The dragons weren't at fault, they were under the control of someone purely... purely _evil."_

Thorin remained silent.

"Sting was among the dragons injured by Rangers who came to our aid." Bilbo continued. "He killed my parents, and when I found him, alone and abandoned and injured... I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to hurt as much as he hurt me." His fingers clenched against Sting's scales, but they quickly smoothed back out. "But I couldn't. I couldn't hurt him."

Sting let out a concerned trill, and rubbed his nose against Bilbo's hair. His tail shifted absently as he hunched closer.

"I know, bud." Bilbo whispered on a sigh. 

"Why?" Thorin asked, after a moment of silence. "Why could you not kill him?"

Bilbo closed his eyes. "Because it wasn't his fault." He whispered. "He would never have come near the Shire had he not been under the influence of something dark and treacherous." He pressed his forehead against Sting's flat nose. "I couldn't kill him, because when I looked at him and I saw he was as scared as I was."

Thorin turned his gaze to Sting. "A dragon, scared?" He murmured to himself.

"You see, that's what you Dwarves and everyone else don't understand." Bilbo growled. "They're not mindless beasts, they don't instinctively hunt down and seek to cause anguish. They think and behave in ways that are difficult, but not impossible, to understand, so long as one _tries."_

"But no one's ever tried."

Bilbo's anger dissipated, and he felt his shoulders slump. "Exactly." He said. "Exactly."

"What do you want from me, Master Baggins?" Thorin asked. "Not as an employer, or as a King. What do you want from me as a _person?"_

Bilbo's eyes slide over to the Dwarf. Thorin met his gaze without reluctance, with a sense of straightforwardness that felt foreign and desirable. Bilbo narrowed his eyes, and flexed his fingers against Sting's neck - almost as if sensing his mood, the dragon snarled, bared his teeth and flung himself at Thorin. The Dwarf was shoved to the ground, held firm with clawed paws as big as his head, but he did not retaliate even when Sting opened his jaws to roar.

Only when he did nothing at all, but rather allowed Sting to do as he pleased, did the dragon back off with a satisfied rumble.

Bilbo offered a faint smile. "I'll tell you what I want when I believe it's achievable for you to give to me." He said. "For now, I want you to protect the wild dragons. I want the traps in this wilderness to be disabled, I want the dragon hunting to be stopped. I want Sting to be protected, above anyone else. Above myself. Above the desire you have for your wealth to be regained."

Thorin pushed himself upright, eyes wild and hard. He looked more dishevelled than Bilbo had ever seen him before, even when Sting first threatened him and his kin. "I will see to it." He said.

It was unreasonable to believe all of Bilbo's demands could be met, but that Thorin was willing to try without questioning it was enough. He could be satisfied with that.

Silence reigned as Sting wandered around the rock, curiously sniffing at its surface. Eventually, wild dragons much like the ones that had joined them on the flight over came wandering up. They weren't all that intelligent, and as such ignored Sting's little shots of fire, which made Bilbo chuckle. These dragons were small pack animals, and soon enough he had three clamouring for his attention while Sting tried to dislodge one that had chomped on his wing and two that were wrapped around his long tail. 

Even a pair of the curious things were edging towards Thorin, the spines along their backs raised like hackles. 

"What are they doing?" Thorin asked. He looked concerned, and somewhat affronted.

"Don't mind them." Bilbo dismissed his worries simply, rubbing his hand over the head of one of the dragons clawing at his leg teasingly. "They're mostly harmless. The little things just love attention, is all. They can be easily bribed with food, and won't spit fire at you unless you attack first. Hold out your hand."

Thorin looked incredulous, and it took several doubtful moments for him to comply. The little dragons sniffed at his palms curiously, before pressing their noses against his fingers. He seemed surprised that they hadn't bitten him, and tentatively rubbed under the chin of one. Predictably, the other got jealous and let out a tiny squeak as it dived at Thorin's legs, clawing for his attention.

Bilbo chuckled at their antics. Dragons, he could understand. They wanted attention, affection. They wanted food and safety. Wanted pack and home. They could be understood, if one simply stayed with them long enough, if one looked into their eyes and made a _connection._

Sting puffed a brooding wisp of heated smoke at the dragons latched onto him, and slumped down next to Bilbo, enough to shelter Bilbo from the cold of the night with one wing. Bilbo let the little dragons settle across his legs before making himself comfortable across Sting, content to stay watch for as long as need be. Sting eventually gave up in shaking off the dragons, and instead curled his tail around Bilbo until the finned tip rested under Sting's head, around the both of them.

After a moment the dragons on Thorin settled too, hidden under his coat where it was most likely warm. 

"This is uncomfortable." Thorin murmured quietly.

"Bare it." Bilbo answered, snorting. 

Thorin, thankfully, too no offense to Bilbo's words and instead chuckled. "They're strange creatures."

"They are."

"And yet, oddly charming." Thorin continued. "So long as they don't try to bite my fingers off."

Bilbo smiled faintly, watching as one dragon purred gleefully and rubbed its head against Bilbo's palm. They certainly were charming. "I'm going to try and save your home, Thorin Oakenshield." He said without looking away from the dragon. "But if I find your home unsalvageable, and you find yourself unwilling to accept any remedies I should so offer, then that's all I'm going to give."

Thorin lowered his gaze. It didn't seem promising, Bilbo knew, but it was something, and something was better than nothing. 

"No one deserves to be without a home." Bilbo said. "If I can help you get that back, I shall. But not even a dragon deserves to be outcast. I hope you will remember where my allegiances lie."


	18. Cross-Cultural Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin explore the courting styles of each other's people.

When Dwarves courted, they lavished their partner in gifts. Bilbo figured this out quite swiftly - he'd expected a courtship with a Dwarf to be different to that of one with a Hobbit, naturally, but not to the extent he experienced. Hobbits were more _gift givers_ than _gift receivers,_ and while he very much appreciated the gifts Thorin gave him they were a little strange for him to receive. 

Thorin was a very attentive lover. Dwarves valued objects that were crafted - handmade gifts were highly treasured, and if one could emphasise their skills in something perfectly made rather than bought that could be used by their intended, well. Who wouldn't wish for a better courtship gift?

A Hobbit, possibly.

But Bilbo wasn't just any old Hobbit, and Thorin wasn't any old Dwarf, either. More than anything, the Dwarf understood the cultural differences between them, and when making Bilbo gifts he took that into account. He gave Bilbo a variety of useful things - a beautiful gold hair pin to pull back his unruly curls, a small ring that was dainty enough to wear on his finger at all times, a bookmark topped with an ornate acorn that would peek out above the pages of the novel he was reading.

Really, he was a wonderful lover. Bilbo couldn't have asked for anyone better, and he lamented the fact that he had no skills in crafting to return Thorin's affection the way a Dwarf would. All he could do was court Thorin as a Hobbit would.

And that meant food, flowers, and more food.

Really, it was mostly food. Bilbo had a fondness for baking and gardening regardless of a courtship, so he enjoyed it nevertheless. He made Thorin the nicest things he could, recipes ingrained into his head by his mother and father, and grew the prettiest flowers to place on Thorin's nightstand every morning. 

Bilbo felt a little insecure about it, truthfully. He wanted Thorin to have the full courtship experience, even though he had little to offer. He wanted Thorin to be happy above all else, to be content with him. He didn't know if a Hobbit-style courtship would be enough. 

Unbeknownst to him, Thorin was also apprehensive about Bilbo's desires. His little Hobbit seemed to enjoy the gifts Thorin gave him, despite them not being typical for a creature such as him. While Thorin tailored his gifts to Bilbo's preferences and hobbies, he still felt like his lover was missing out. He wasn't a Hobbit, couldn't offer what Bilbo would of otherwise had, had he remained in the Shire. He felt like he wasn't enough. 

Of course, he tried to cook and grow flowers. The food turned out more like charcoal that anything edible, and the flowers hardly even sprouted before they wilted. Thorin wasn't even sure what kind they were. He did improve, though, especially after Bilbo shyly offered him a handmade bead (that he admitted he'd had help making from Thorin's nephews, but it was his first crafted item, and he was _giving it to Thorin._ He didn't think Bilbo understood the significance of that). 

Thorin's first real attempt at making food that he fully intended to give Bilbo was disastrous. In fact, he tossed the biscuits out and cast them from his mind, a thought to never be revisited ever again. The second and third attempts were not much better, but the _fourth,_ he was rather pleased with. 

He was still very nervous when he approached Bilbo that night. Even though they were still in a courtship, they slept in the same bed. They hadn't been intimate, not all the way, not yet, but Thorin already knew he loved Bilbo more than he had ever loved any other. Bilbo was a firm fixture in his life, a courageous little Hobbit with a heart of pure gold and a temper to match Thorin's own. He was truly perfect in every conceivable way, right from his cute button nose all the way down to the curly hair on his feet. 

Bilbo had stared in wonderment as Thorin offered him the biscuits he'd made.

"I know they are not perfect," He had said, "And that they're a little overcooked, and oddly shaped, but-"

"They are perfect." Bilbo had interrupted, staring up at Thorin starry-eyed and looking like he might burst into tears. "This is so thoughtful, Thorin- I-"

"Please don't cry!"

"I'm not crying!" Bilbo just laughed, taking the plate from Thorin to free his hands, so that he could press a kiss to Thorin's palms. "These hands have brought me much pleasures in life, made me many wonderful things, and now food too? Surely you know my heart is already filled to the brim."

Thorin tried not to melt, but this wonderful Hobbit could so easily produce such reactions from him. "I can't promise anything taste wise..."

"They'll be the best I've had, regardless." Bilbo grinned cheekily, easily dismissing his insecurities. "Will you feed me some?"

Thorin turned vaguely pink, but he could never deny Bilbo. He tried not to feel too embarrassed as he carefully selected the best looking biscuit (a bit of a challenge, admittedly) to bring to Bilbo's parted lips. The Hobbit really did have nice lips, thin but delicately curved, lips that easily swelled and flushed when abused with kisses. 

Bilbo grinned and flushed as he tasted the biscuits. His lips just faintly brushed against Thorin's fingertips, prompting him to grip Thorin's hand to chase the crumbs on his fingers. "It's good!" He declared, laughing pleasurably. 

Thorin smiled warmly, and pulled the Hobbit into an embrace. Bilbo enthusiastically returned it, nuzzling his nose against Thorin's neck affectionately. His fingers wiggled under Thorin's coat, searching for his sides where they rested comfortably. 

Thorin just chuckled at his lover's antics. 

Bilbo really was just perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanhan suggest insecure Thorin, Anon on tumblr suggested Thorin handfeeding Bilbo~


	19. With Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin struggles with showing affection.

Thorin knew his general demeanour and aversion to affection, especially when in the eyes of the public, could become a burden to Bilbo. The small Hobbit wasn't used to the ways of Dwarves, wasn't used to gruffness and improper table manners and excessive snoring and constant roughhousing. Thorin sometimes thought Bilbo would be swept away by it all, would be lost and overwhelmed and terribly homesick.

But his little acorn always managed to surprise Thorin. He could keep up with the best of them, and although he never partook in any roughhousing or improperness, he didn't let anyone overrun him. If he was displeased, or if he wanted quietness and a peaceful dinner, he made sure the entire table knew so.

Thorin had never seen so many Dwarves baulk at once, but Bilbo could be quite fearsome, if he wanted to be. 

Of course, Bilbo was also quite affectionate. He was a whole mix of things - frightened of storms, firm with a blade, harsh with words when angered, small and shaky when not. Thorin delighted in figuring out all the little quirks and traits bundled up in such a strange and delightful creature. He knew how Bilbo liked his tea, what order he ate things off his plate at dinner (always vegetables first, very studious of him), which side he preferred to sleep on at night, and how he grumbled at his curls in the morning because they could become so unruly and tangled. He knew all of the little things that made Bilbo _Bilbo,_ everything that made him special, and yet he discovered more and more with each passing day.

Still, he wished that his own aversions were not such barriers. He felt incredibly uncomfortable showing affection in public, and feelings of possessiveness often struck him at odd times. He always quelled them, and knew never to make Bilbo uncomfortable, even though Bilbo tolerated such bouts of emotion. There were times when he was even struck with embarrassment in private, when he rationally had no reason to. He'd never been faced with the task of providing pleasure and affection to someone before, not like how he did with Bilbo. He wanted his little lover to always be satisfied, but he was concerned he wasn't enough.

Oddly enough, he found that when Bilbo was asleep it was easier to shower him in affection. Bilbo was a creature of luxury - he loved laziness and warmth and the soothing scent of tea, and was unused to rising with the sun as Thorin did. As such, Bilbo was generally a heavy sleeper, and often rose slowly in the morning, but not after a long, leisurely stretch.

Bilbo always looked charming when asleep. His cheek would be squished against the pillow, but his expression was serene and comfortable. Thorin often found himself tracing the shape of Bilbo's face, and down the bridge of his nose to the little rounded edge. His features were so unlike those Dwarves sported, so soft and round and smooth. He was always tempted to press small kisses to the places he admired, and more often than not he gave in to those urges. 

Bilbo's skin was always soft under his lips, pleasantly warmed by sleep.

Thorin treasured those moments, more than anything else. He wished he could give his dear Bilbo all that he deserved, and hoped that one day it would come easier to him, with time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and early today, I'm going out tonight and probably would of only had a short window to write later~


	20. Attachment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo isn't fond of the Dwarves who stole his Uncle.

Frodo held tightly onto his Uncle Bilbo was he stared up at the great halls the Dwarves lived in. _They live in a mountain,_ Uncle Bilbo had told him, and while he knew Uncle Bilbo would never ever lie to him he could hardly imagine it. He was scared of the big Dwarves, and even more scared of their dark hallways, and especially the ones where the path was suspended and there were no railings! 

It was hardly proper, he huffed to himself, as he tightened his arms around Uncle Bilbo's neck. He didn't like these Dwarves, they were taking his Uncle from him. Uncle Bilbo was _his,_ and as Hobbits they should be together, not off with hairy Dwarves. Frodo didn't have anyone to play with if Uncle Bilbo wasn't around.

"Frodo, my dear," Uncle Bilbo said, lifting a hand to touch Frodo's cheek in an attempt to gain his attention, "This is Thorin Oakenshield, and his nephews, Fili and Kili."

Frodo glanced at the Dwarves inquisitively. He knew that Thorin had to be the biggest one, with hair the same colour as his and eyes that were dark blue. He had a harsh face, Frodo decided, one he ultimately didn't like. The other two he couldn't tell apart, but he knew he didn't like either of them too. They grinned at him in a way that Frodo knew meant that they were naughty, and he didn't want to get in trouble by playing with naughty boys.

He frowned harder and turned his face back into Uncle Bilbo's neck, winding his fingers into the curls at the back of his head. Uncle Bilbo sighed into his hair, and rocked Frodo on his hip gently. It was soothing, much like the warm hand Uncle Bilbo ran down his back.

"Sorry." Uncle Bilbo told the Dwarves. "He's a little shy."

"Understandable." Thorin answered. "I've had rooms prepared for him, and dinner too, if you want to take him to our dining room..."

"Thanks, love." Uncle Bilbo sighed again, shifting his grip on Frodo to be a little tighter. "I might go down there now, and see you later tonight."

Thorin brushed a hand by Uncle Bilbo's shoulder - it was as big as Frodo's _head,_ and made him flinch. Uncle Bilbo soothed him with a small sound, and then he was being carried deeper into the mountain.

"I know this is a big change, my dear boy." Uncle Bilbo told him, cupping the back of Frodo's head to lure it out of the crook of his neck. "It's a little scary, and a little daunting, but I promise no one here will harm you. Everyone was very excited to meet you, you know. I told them all about you, and especially how good you are at hide-and-seek. Fili and Kili said that no one could possibly beat them, but I told them you definitely could!" Uncle Bilbo exclaimed, touching Frodo's nose cheerfully. 

Frodo couldn't help but giggle at his silly Uncle. 

"Now, are you hungry, Frodo?" Uncle Bilbo asked. "Thorin told me he's had dinner prepared for us."

"Just... just us?" Frodo whispered, glancing up at Uncle Bilbo sheepishly.

"If that is what you wish." Uncle Bilbo told him. "Frodo, I want you to feel at home here. If you wish to stay with me, then you shall, for however long you want. I won't have you feeling uncomfortable, and if anyone ever does something and says something that upsets you, I want you to tell me right away. This is your home too, and I will stay by your side for as long as you need me to. Don't ever be afraid to come to me, or to ask me for something, okay?"

Frodo nodded, and held onto Uncle Bilbo a little tighter. "Hungry." He mumbled.

Uncle Bilbo smiled, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Let's go eat, then!"

 

The room that Thorin gave Frodo was really nice. It was big and cosy and had a warm bed with lots of blankets. He even had his own toy chest, filled with toys made by all the Dwarves of Uncle Bilbo's company had made for him, Uncle Bilbo said. It felt like home, but Frodo was always worried without Uncle Bilbo with him.

The first few nights that he slept in the Dwarves' mountain, Uncle Bilbo stayed in his bed. Frodo would often wake up during the middle of the night, and after the first time he'd gone wandering down the dark corridors crying for his Uncle, the older Hobbit had decided it was best he stay with Frodo until he was able to sleep through the entire night undisturbed. 

Eventually Frodo felt a little more settled in the mountain. When they stared joining Thorin and his nephews for meals, Frodo got used to it. When Fili and Kili started to talk to him, he didn't always shy away. They were very playful, he found, and even though they were big boys they wanted to play with him and show him around.

Frodo was still reluctant to leave his Uncle, though. He trailed after Uncle Bilbo, insistently holding his hand or the hem of his shirt wherever he went. He got teary-eyed when Uncle Bilbo left his line of sight, and would only quieten down if Uncle Bilbo returned. 

However as the weeks progressed, he started to become accustomed to some of the Dwarves. Thorin wasn't as scary as he first thought, and some of Uncle Bilbo's friends were really nice to him too. He still couldn't remember everyone's names, and often mixed up names and faces, but he knew Ori and Dori and Bofur apart from the rest. They were the nicest, and didn't have too much hair on their faces like some of the Dwarves.

He could recognise Dwalin, too - and would run the other way or start crying. 

One day, when he got separated from Uncle Bilbo, Frodo found himself in a foreign corridor surrounded by Dwarves he didn't know or recognise. Tears readily filled his eyes as he trembled, staring up at the big people walking past him as though he could easily be trodden underfoot. 

"Uncle..." He whimpered, bottom lip trembling.

"Frodo?"

He startled at the familiar voice, spinning around to see Thorin's familiar hulking figure rushing towards him. "Frodo, what are you doing down here? Where's your Uncle?"

"I don't know." He cried, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes as he hiccupped. "I want Uncle Bilbo."

"Now, now, don't cry," Thorin said, crouching down as low as he could to gently pull at Frodo's hands and peer into his face, "How about we go find Uncle Bilbo, then?"

Frodo sniffled, but gripped Thorin's big hand as tightly as he could. "Okay..."

Thorin offered him a faint smile. "Come along, then." He said, standing. He walked slowly, cautious of Frodo's much smaller steps, and gentle steered him away from any Dwarves that came in their direction. He even held onto Frodo's hand gently, which looked impossible for such large hands, and never gripped too tight. 

When one of the suspended walkways appeared, Frodo bulked. Uncle Bilbo always carried him over those walkways, because his legs would tremble too much for him to toddle across. As if sensing his fright, Thorin carefully picked him up, ignoring the way Frodo's hands instantly jumped to tightly grip fistfuls of his hair. Frodo just watched him, eyes wide and fixed to Thorin's face.

The Dwarf's grip on him was strong, stronger than Uncle Bilbo's. Frodo felt like Thorin hardly knew he was carrying extra weight, and it made him feel safe. The longer he stared at Thorin, the more awed he felt. 

Maybe the Dwarves weren't so bad after all.

_Maybe._

But that didn't mean he didn't cling to Bilbo for hours afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by CappuccettoRosso / illupocattivo~ ^///w///^


	21. Curls And Clasps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin thinks of Bilbo and braids.

Thorin enjoyed braiding his little Hobbit's hair. He'd never worked with such a pleasant texture, with something so soft and silky. Every curl twisted around his fingers and bounced when released, and the more he stared the more he noticed every little colour blended into the fine strands. It was quite hypnotising. 

Bilbo liked having his hair braided, too. He once told Thorin that it was unlike anything he'd felt before, and that it was very relaxing. He hadn't thought his hair was long enough to be braided, and that the curls would get in the way, but Thorin was insistent. His fingers may have been big and battle worn, but he could still work delicately, could still weave small and neat shapes into the soft locks. 

It was always a pleasant experience to see Bilbo walking Erebor around wearing the decorative braids. They were a mark of his status, and a mark of Thorin - a smooth braid that ran down behind his ear was even held with an intricate consort clasp Thorin had hand made specifically for Bilbo to used. It always left him feeling warm to see how Bilbo liked to show them off, how he held his head a little higher when they were in. He thought that Bilbo felt a little more at ease with braids, a little more at home, because Dwarves so highly valued them. 

However nice they were, it was also calming to take them out. The hair would be extra curly, and generally knot free. Thorin could wind his fingers through Bilbo's curls with relative ease if it had been braided, and if not then he had the privilege of combing it for as long as Bilbo could tolerate. 

Really, Thorin just loved Bilbo's hair. There wasn't anything more to it.


	22. Linger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Firsts"

Bilbo first truly felt sorrow when his parents passed. It was the world's first attack on him, a first-degree assault that showed him the cruelty of life and the meaninglessness it offered. He hadn't thought he'd be able to move on, to wait for time to numb the wounds he could feel but not see, that he'd fade into nothingness until only distant memories residing in a neighbour's mind and a single picture frame would be all that was left of him.

_But he had._

Bilbo first truly felt the passing of time as he waited in agony for the sorrow suffocating him to lessen. It was difficult to bear, like he'd been frozen before a small seed could take root. But like the seasons, time passed and the coldness he felt began to ebb and flow away into a void where time, in turn, let it be forgotten. 

_Memories were fickle like that._

Bilbo first truly felt the excitement of adventure and living when thirteen Dwarves and a single old Wizard gripped his life by the edges and shook it frantically, like a dusty sheet. He felt like there was a hurricane beneath his heart, spurring him into motion. He held on for dear life, knowing that were was no way to take back any moment, and let himself breathe. 

_He'd started again._

Bilbo first truly felt love when he looked at Thorin Oakenshield and saw not a Dwarf, but rather the reflections of stars and forests and great things seen by dark blue eyes. Love wasn't a feeling, he knew, it was a choice, and he'd chosen to love Thorin Oakenshield more than any. The Dwarf took him by the hand, spoke to him words of moments and experiences, and led him by the heart, from the heart. Bilbo hadn't though he could ever love somebody with every fibre of his body so fiercely.

_But he did._

Bilbo first truly felt anguish when blood dried on his hands and the fingers carefully cradling his heart turned as cold as stone and Thorin Oakenshield died in his arms. 

There would be no ever-after. He fell fast, trusting, but it had all ended even faster.

They talked to him like he was the broken one, not the world. He couldn't make sense of it, couldn't connect the dots in front of his eyes to see the picture it all made. It never occurred to him that he would return to the company of his parent's ghosts in a winding house full of never-ending spirals and curves and untruthful memories. It never occurred to him that he wouldn't make it back there after all, either. He hadn't mourned, hadn't realised or acknowledged what had truly happened, as he returned to the road like a castaway and tried to make sense of the things being blurred and confused.

He hadn't felt pain, when he slipped on the little gold ring. The more he wore it, the more everything faded into jet blackness and silence. He didn't notice when he stopped taking it off, when he too, like all the things in the cruel and broken world that continued clumsily spinning on its axels, faded into blank meaninglessness. 

The ghost of survivor's guilt could be so unkind.


	23. Polar Degrees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin Oakenshield was everything that he wasn't. He lived in a world that was filled to the brim with violent snowstorms and frozen waterfalls and towering peaks of ice mountains. He was cold and silent and could control time itself.

Time moved differently in a place where none aged and gravity was more a thing of the mind than of the physicality. In a world of gods and guardians, Bilbo Baggins remained perfectly entombed by walls of foliage and endless millenniums of spring. He hardly felt the need to leave his world, lest there was something delectable enough to entice him out.

And oh, was there something positively _ravishing_ beyond his hills of green.

Or rather, _someone._

Thorin Oakenshield was everything that he wasn't. He lived in a world that was filled to the brim with violent snowstorms and frozen waterfalls and towering peaks of ice mountains. He was cold and silent and could control time itself.

They met, once, when Thorin went out of control and winter reigned well into spring. Bilbo had been furious, been violent himself - he'd crushed winter's grip on his season, and brought new life into the world of mortals. He was a man pressured by time, as his domain wilted and died and went through continuous lifecycles permanently affected by all other seasons. He had a time limit.

But Bilbo had been entranced. He couldn't leave his domain for long, couldn't leave spring unattended - none of them could, lest they be forgotten and reincarnated, and no reincarnation needed the previous god alive. They faded if they were forgotten, and their domain was a place where memories thrived. 

It didn't mean he couldn't leave at all, however. For short periods, no more than a handful of months at a time, he could leave his domain unattended. Long by mortal standards, perhaps, but nothing to a god. It was never enough. He wanted _more._

Bilbo wormed his way into Thorin's life through the rough and broken cracks winter often caused, even on itself. He found that he fit there remarkably well, once Thorin became accustomed to his presence. After Thorin realised his touch would not freeze Bilbo, would not burn him with cold, then he never stopped touching.

It was an odd combination, certainly, but Bilbo liked to think that life could not grow until there was a clean slate, and there was nothing better than winter to cleanse the earth. 

He liked Thorin's touches quite a bit, too. Enjoyed them. A lot.

It was pleasantly embarrassing just to think about it!

To think how spring could become so smitten with winter.


	24. Cold Blood And Vanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is willing to hand over what the Dwarves need, but he wants something in return.

"You need Naga scales."

"Naga scales." Thorin repeated, brow furrowing deeper in frustration. "To get rid of a huge, dangerous dragon, you want me to hunt down Naga scales."

Gandalf nodded, looking pleased with himself. "They're both reptiles, but they're exact opposites." He said. "A Naga's scales will ward off dragons."

Thorin let out a deeply aggravated sigh. At least he'd gotten an answer from the Wizard, this time. He didn't know how many times he'd tried to convince the Wizard to help them, though he wasn't sure this was a step in the right direction. "And how do you suppose I acquire Naga scales? Not even black markets have something so rare in stock. I've never even seen a Naga."

"Ah, that is where I can actually help!" Gandalf said. "You see, I believe I know exactly where to get your Naga scales."

 

Bilbo Baggins was comfortably curled up in his den when a loud knocking on his door startled him. He lifted his head, and shifted his tail into a different position as he listened for voices. Instead of words, only more knocking came.

Huffing, he lifted himself up and began the trek towards the door. The fine sand beneath his scales shifted and parted as he glided across it. Absentmindedly, he thought he might need to sweep again. Once at his door, he lifted himself a bit higher to press his little hands to the door and peer through the peephole. He almost let out a squeak in surprise when he saw people standing there.

And not just any people, but _Dwarves!_ What were they doing in these parts, anyway?

Tentatively, he opened his front door. People around here usually meant something bad - poachers, and hunters, they would come through here and try to trap those like Bilbo, to harvest their scales. "Can I help you?" He asked quietly.

"Thorin Oakenshield," A Dwarf told him with a small bow, "at your service." Similarly, the three Dwarves behind him introduced themselves as Dwalin, Fili and Kili. 

"Bilbo Baggins." He replied cautiously. 

"I apologise for interrupting your night, Mr Baggins." Thorin murmured. "Gandalf the Grey sent me here."

Bilbo puffed his cheeks out, and opened the door wider. "How dare he!" Bilbo fumed. "Come in then, before anyone sees you. I can't believe that meddling Wizard, he knows how dangerous this is..." Bilbo muttered to himself as he wandered back down the hallway, towards the dining room. He knew he had some leftover food in the pantry that would probably satisfy the Dwarves, but he didn't know how much longer he would be able to stay awake. 

When he heard no footsteps following him, he paused and turned back.

"Y-your legs..." Fili murmured shakily, gulping. Both he and his companions had their eyes fixed to Bilbo's tail, where a mottled mix of brown, gold and white scales glittered under his hallway lights prettily.

Bilbo snorted. "Not legs. Tail." He corrected. "Surely if Gandalf sent you here it was because of this, not for a spot of tea and a nice conversation. Hurry up and close the door behind yourselves, you're letting in the cold."

The Dwarves rushed to comply, and swiftly fell into place behind him.

"Have a seat." Bilbo gestured to his dining table, where there were chairs set up mostly for aesthetics. "I'll find some food and put on some tea, then you can tell me why that damned Wizard sent you to bother me."

Thorin looked quite affronted by him, but none said a word until they murmured their thanks for the food Bilbo placed in front of them.

Bilbo moved to curl up in front of the roaring fireplace while they ate, curling his tail into a comfortable spiral before resting his head on it. The fire warmed his scales pleasurably; he almost wanted to purr in satisfaction. His kind didn't take well to cold things, and without the sun at night they relied on fires and heated water flasks and copious amounts of blankets to stay warm. 

He almost fell asleep, admittedly, but forced himself to remain awake and move back towards the table after the Dwarves had seemingly finished.

"Tell me, what is it the Wizard would have me do for you?" Bilbo asked, taking a place at the table. 

Thorin glanced away for a moment. "I rule a Kingdom called Erebor." He began. "Recently, a dragon ravaged my halls and attacked my people. There is no conceivable way to kill it without risking both my people, my Kingdom and the surrounding human villages. When I turned to Gandalf for advice, he suggested I drive it from the mountain-"

"With Naga scales." Bilbo nodded, humming thoughtfully. "How intelligent of him. Dragons really are mindless beasts, so greedy and fixated on their hoards." He sniffed indignantly. "Nothing like Nagas, we're much more centred."

Thorin smiled faintly. "Much more appealing, too."

His companions looked horrified at his comment, but Bilbo just smiled salaciously. "Ah, appealing to the vanity of vain creatures? How smart of you." He picked off dust from his nightgown, and straightened it. "You must know that if it is my scales you wish for, I would like something in return."

Thorin watched him curiously. "And what is it that you wish for, Mr Baggins?"

Bilbo donned a thoughtful expression, but shook his head after a moment. "If I'm going to wish for something, from a _King_ no less, then I want it to be a good wish. You won't be getting your scales now, mind, so I suggest you take your rest here tonight. I must admit that I'm becoming rather exhausted, so I must retire."

"Of course." Thorin stood, and held out a large hand. "Thank you for considering my offer, and for allowing us to stay here."

Bilbo looked at Thorin's hand for a moment, but nevertheless slipped his own into it. His hand was so much smaller and softer and squishier than Thorin's, and although Bilbo expected it, it was still a rather pleasant surprise. 

"The spare rooms are down the hall and to the left." Bilbo said. "There are blankets in the trunks at the foot of each bed."

They nodded in acknowledgement, so Bilbo took his leave. His room was as he left it, warm to the point of discomfort for any other than a Naga, but perfect for him. He burrowed under his nest of quilts and sighed at the warmth that flooded his body. He rubbed his cheek against the bulky blankets, sighing as he curled his tail up under himself as he gripped the end, content to keep it warm with his own body heat (he often woke up with it sticking out of the blankets and numb with cold if he didn't hold it while he slept). 

He smiled to himself when he thought about his wish - he could have anything he wanted! Rare books from the Dwarven library or special teas or even some of the finest fabrics from that side of the world, it could be his.

And yet, that helpful little voice in his head said that all he wanted was to not be lonely anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Heidifox~
> 
> I've never written or read anything about Naga's before, so I hope this is alright. I wanted to make Bilbo really cute, I imagined his tail to be chubby and pretty and soft, much like his skin (in comparison to his tougher scales). I was hesitant about writing anything like this because I was unsure if that type of creature could come off how I wanted it to, mostly because where I live, so do most of the world's most poisonous snakes ahhh ^^" They certainly aren't fun to share a home with, but I hope this turned out alright anyway ^^
> 
> I also wanted to apologise for the string of shorter stories these past few weeks, I've been very stressed. My formal is in two days, and everything that could go wrong has, but I'm getting back into the groove of things now, hopefully~


	25. Cold Blood And Vanity Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Removing scales can be a tricky business, if not done right.

The sun was already high in the sky when Bilbo roused. From underneath his mountain of blankets, he peered out through the window, and was disappointed to find the sky cloudy with grey. He loved the sunshine, loved warmth, and an overcast sky meant nothing good for Nagas.

Bilbo eventually dragged himself out of bed, shivering a little as he went fishing for clothes. He pulled on his favourite shirt, and a thick waistcoat, before pulling on a further jacket to ward off the chills. When he made his way to his kitchen, he founds the Dwarves already awake, waiting patiently at the table. They were so quiet he'd almost forgotten they were there.

"Breakfast?" He asked sleepily, rubbing at an eye. He set out five plates before they can really answer, and shooed away Thorin when he tried to help, instead directing him to light the fire. 

"Are you cold?" Thorin asked curiously.

"A little." He answered. "My blood is different to yours."

Thorin didn't press the matter further, but instead expertly started a fire that soon began bleeding warmth into the room. It was steady and roaring within moments, which made Bilbo sigh as his hands stopped trembling. He served breakfast once it was prepared, with cups of tea, and gave himself the time to wake up properly as his stomach was filled. 

"I'll have to go down to the river today." Bilbo said as he drained his teacup. "Would you like to accompany me?"

"I'd be our pleasure." Thorin answered, scooping up all the dishes before Bilbo could complain. "What do you need at the river?"

"Fish." Bilbo answered. "I've run out of meat, as it's perishable, and there are wild berries that grow on its banks that are quite nice in pies."

After the dishes had been washed, Bilbo bundled himself up in as much clothing as possible, and with a basket in hand he led the Dwarves out of Bag-End. It was a chilly day, and although the dwarves seemed unaffected, Bilbo was scowling. 

"Mr Boggins," Kili said, darting up to stand by Bilbo's side, "Are there other Nagas like you?"

"Baggins," Bilbo chided gently, "And yes there are, the entire Shire is filled with them."

"We didn't see any." Fili said. "When we came up here."

"Yes, and it's likely you won't." Bilbo replied. "No one can find a Nagas home unless the homeowner wishes it."

"But we found yours." Kili frowned.

"I believe the Wizard had something to do with that." Bilbo told him, huffing. "He shouldn't have done that, any other Naga and you'd likely be dead. We don't take well to others finding our homes, you know."

Kili just looked at him. "Why would we be dead? You don't seem very dangerous."

Bilbo grinned, despite Thorin's quick scold. "Looks can be deceiving, little Dwarf."

"I'm not little!" Kili exclaimed, making a point to stare down at Bilbo.

Almost taunting, Bilbo rose up until his head was level with Kili's, and opened his mouth to show off little fangs descending. "One bite," He said, leering over Kili, "One bite, that's all it takes." He ruffled Kili's hair, and absentmindedly sunk back down to a more comfortable height to pat his tail. "Powerful things, these. You'd best not underestimate those you do not understand."

If anything, Kili just looked impressed. "You have _fangs!"_ He shouted, grinning widely.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Thorin, your nephew is daft."

Thorin cuffed Kili across the back of the head gently, and took his place beside Bilbo. "Yes, I'm well aware." He said, ignoring the shout of indignation he got. "I must apologise for them."

"Me too?" Fili cried. Dwalin just laughed at him.

"Don't apologise." Bilbo waved a hand. "They're rather amusing."

"Mr Boggins!" Kili cried, exasperated.

"Baggins." Bilbo reminded him easily. "The river is just around this bend. It's clean and relatively warm, so feel free to go for a dip while I check the nets."

"I'll accompany you, if that's alright." Thorin said.

Bilbo smiled bashfully, and didn't refuse him. 

The river appeared through the trees a moment later, and it was almost comical to watch the two younger Dwarves shout with glee and run towards it. Thorin chuckled at them fondly, and glanced at Dwalin. "Make sure they don't do anything stupid."

"No promises." Dwalin grunted, shaking his head as be began after them.

"The nets are this way." Bilbo said, leading Thorin towards a small cove where the river water collected and fish often found themselves stuck. As he expected, the net was filled with enough fish to last him for a while. He couldn't possibly eat them all, and let half go, before pulling the net and the remaining fish out of the water and into the basket with Thorin's help.

"This is a genius contraption." He said, thoughtfully staring down at the netting system. 

Bilbo nodded. "There are a few down this river, for all of us to use." He explained. "So long as we return the nets to the water, there's always a continuous supply of fish. It's not like we can become fisherman, anyway." He chuckled.

Thorin donned an amused smile. "I must admit, I'm quite impressed by your form." He said. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

"I should hope not." Bilbo snorted, trying to resist the urge to puff out proudly at the praise. "I take meticulous care of my scales, you know. They're the prettiest in the Shire."

"I'm sure they are." Thorin chuckled, absentmindedly reaching out a hand. "May I?"

"I don't mind." Bilbo said, lifting up the hem of his jacket to expose the junction where his skin gradually met scales.

Thorin pressed his hand against them, fingers smoothing over the chubby limb gently. His fingers were rough, but flexible, and it was a lovely texture to have against his scales. Bilbo had always had a thing for textures like that, it made everything more comfortable, he thought. 

"It's just astounding." Thorin finally said, hand curling across Bilbo's hip as though he were cupping it as his thumb rubbed at the scales gently. "I've really never seen anything quite like this."

Bilbo grinned, flushing proudly again. "Flatterer." He accused lightheadedly. 

Thorin startled, as if he hadn't truly realised what exactly he'd said, and politely drew his hand back to offer a tentative smile. 

Out of nowhere, and arrow shot through the air and sliced across Bilbo's cheek before embedding itself in the tree behind him.

Bilbo cried out in shock, flailing. His balance on the little cove shook and suddenly he found himself slipping off the bank. "Thorin!" He screamed.

The Dwarf dove for him, but two more arrows shot at his feet, making him reel back.

Bilbo gasped as he plunged into the water, scrabbling for the surface. The cold pierced through all his clothes and shot straight through his skin, chilling him to the bone. He clawed for air, choking on bubbles that flooded out of his mouth, and thrashed feebly as he felt something heavy settle over the top of him. The next moment, he was being yanked from the water and dragged across the rocky banks. He spluttered and gasped as he fought against the net entangling his tail, and sobbed as hands roughly pinned him to the ground.

"Grab him already!" An unknown voice hissed. "Muzzle him!"

"Just scale him now!" Another shouted.

Bilbo screamed as he felt a knife piece his scales. Poison from his fangs flooded his mouth as pain shattered up his spine when one of his scales was cut from his tail.

There was a vicious shout, and then the sound of swords clashing. Bilbo panted for breath and tried to control his shivering as the hands pressing him to the dirty ground were forced away. 

"Bilbo, Bilbo can you hear me?" Fili shouted, hurriedly slicing at the net tangled around him. Bilbo whined, distressed, and couldn't stop shaking from cold as Fili tore the ropes from him and hauled him out of the water properly.

"Bilbo!" A familiar hand cupped his cheek, and turned his head. Thorin stared down at him, sword abandoned by his side. There was blood on his shirt. "Bilbo, are you alright?"

"T-take-" Bilbo gasped, "Take them to- to Bree- take the scale-" He spluttered up water, and tried to choke back down the vile burning his throat, "They'll be properly punished."

Thorin nodded, eyes firm, and gently took him from Fili's grip. He barked out orders in Khuzdul to his kin, and blurrily Bilbo could see that Dwalin was chaining up the badly beaten poachers. Kili had his knife pressed to one's throat, and Fili moved to do the same as they were hauled to their feet.

"What about you, Thorin?" Dwalin asked, eyes dark with anger.

"I'm taking Bilbo home, he's too cold." Thorin said. "Meet us back there."

Dwalin nodded, and with that Thorin stood, hauling Bilbo up. Bilbo winced in pain, his head lolling to rest over Thorin's thick arm limply. Thorin readjusted his grip, slipping more of Bilbo's tail through the gap in his arms so that the tip didn't drag across the ground. 

"Stay with me, Bilbo." Thorin murmured. "I'll get you home." 

Bilbo moaned, unable to form words. He huddled against Thorin's chest, burying his nose in the fur of Thorin's coat in a weak attempt to find warmth.

"Your tail is bleeding." Thorin murmured as he rushed back up the path towards Bilbo's house, basket forgotten. "Is this what happens when someone wants Naga scales?"

"It hurts." Bilbo whimpered.

"Then why agree to give me them?"

Bilbo shook his head, catching onto Thorin's thoughts. "Given willingly." He warbled, wincing again. "Doesn't hurt so much. Like pulling hair."

Thorin held him a little tighter. Bag-End appeared a moment later, and after awkwardly wrestling with the door Thorin rushed to place Bilbo on the large cushion he kept by the fire - he supposed it was a Naga equivalent to an armchair, but it was soft and warmed by the fire and he huddled against it, taking comfort in it's familiarity. 

Thorin returned with more blankets and what looked like Bilbo's first aid kit. He quickly stripped Bilbo of his sodden clothes, despite Bilbo's self-conscious whimper, and set to cleaning him with deliciously hot water and clean towels. He was quick to pile the blankets over every part of Bilbo that he dried, but he avoided the bleeding, scaleless spot and instead worked around it.

"This might hurt." He murmured, after covering Bilbo in blankets from tail-tip to head, aside from the wound. As quickly as he could, he cleaned and disinfected the wound, before applying a salve and bandaging it. Bilbo chewed on the quilts around his head to stifle his moans of pain.

For another moment, Thorin disappeared, but he quickly returned with steaming tea. 

"Drink." He encouraging, tilting the cup towards Bilbo's lips. Without the energy to refuse, Bilbo did as was asked of him. "Are you feeling warmer?"

He nodded, and huddled under all the layers again. He'd never been more glad to have a fire going in the morning. 

Thorin sighed, and lowered himself onto the edge of the cushion. He ran his fingers through Bilbo's damp hair soothingly, and shushed him when he started to sniffle. "Get some rest." He murmured. "I'll protect you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's likely tomorrow's chapter will be up very early, and will be very short~ Tomorrow is my formal, so I'm going to be very busy ^^" I'm really nervous, I've never had to dress up so much!


	26. In Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hadn't ever seen Thorin this sick.

Frowning - as he had been all day - Bilbo turned off the tap and heaved the fresh bowl of water up into his arms. He hadn't been this frazzled in years, and it left him breathless and huffy. 

"Bilbo...?" A weak voice croaked.

Bilbo startled, and hurried back into the room. "I'm right here, love." He murmured, placing the bowl down on the table beside the bed. "Feeling any better?"

Thorin just moaned, turning his head to the side. 

Bilbo only frowned deeper, and dipped a clean washcloth into the water before pressing it to Thorin's forehead. "The medicine should kick in any moment." He said, gently taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He hadn't ever seen Thorin this sick, and it was making him nervous. Thorin was flushed, his cheeks, ears, neck and chest red with exhaustion and sick. He couldn't keep his eyes open, and any light was giving him head pains. He had a horrible, wet cough and a fever that skyrocketed without a cool cloth on his head. He was a sweaty, whining mess, Bilbo couldn't bear seeing him like this.

Bilbo sighed and took Thorin's hand when it started fishing for his, gently cradling the limb between his fingers as comfortingly as possible. He wished Thorin would go back to sleep, but any rest he had was fitful and quickly interrupted. 

"Bilbo?"

"I'm here." He repeated, bending to press a chaste kiss to Thorin's knuckles. "I'm not going anywhere, love."

Thorin twisted his head back to open his eyes blurrily at Bilbo, as if he wanted to make sure Bilbo was actually there. 

"Try and get some rest." Bilbo coaxed, shifting up the bed to brush back errant strands of Thorin's tangled hair. "I'll be here when you wake up."


	27. Act Your Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is de-aged and Thorin is jealous.

"How did this even happen?" Thorin snarled, clenching a fist in his own hair as he glared witheringly at his two nephews.

"We don't know!" Kili cried, defensively cradling the baby Hobbit tucked into his arms - _Thorin's_ Hobbit husband, no less! 

"Really, Uncle." Fili nodded in agreement, glancing between them all. "He was fine one moment, and the next he'd shrunk into a babe!" Fili shook his head. "And now he whimpers and cries when either one of us tries to put him down or pass him off to someone else to examine him."

Thorin growled to himself. He'd seen that for himself - Bilbo had started wailing when Thorin tried to pick him up, and even de-aged he couldn't bear to see Bilbo cry, so he'd allowed his nephews to comfort the little thing. He wanted nothing more than to soothe his lover, to fix him, return him back to his proper age, but he didn't have any clue what had done this in the first place. He had no choice but to wait for Bilbo to change back, but he didn't know how long that would take. 

He let out a deep sigh, and eyed Kili. Thorin knew that neither of his nephews had ever held a child, and their interactions with younger children were limited and sparse, as they'd mostly been children themselves. He didn't know how different Hobbit children were, if they needed the same amount of careful treatment, if they were as fragile both in mind and body. Dwarflings were very susceptible to illness at the age Bilbo seemed to have been returned to, and it worried him immensely. 

It didn't help that Kili seemed clueless as to how to hold the tiny Hobbit. He switched between holding Bilbo in the cradle of his arms and perching him on his hip, but as Thorin watched him critically he settled for holding Bilbo like a newborn, head supported by the dip in his elbow. Bilbo, although at least several years old, didn't seemed fussed and instead gripped fistfuls of Kili's coat as if to stop him from running away. 

Thorin wouldn't say he was jealous, but he certainly wanted to hold Bilbo, too. He loved Bilbo, was _in love_ with him, and even though he'd been de-aged that same feeling of fondness hadn't disappeared. He just wanted Bilbo to be happy and safe, regardless of his age. And maybe he wanted to be the one to provide that, but he certainly wouldn't take Bilbo away from his nephews who were obviously providing him a great amount of comfort. 

He let out an aggravated sigh, and watched as Bilbo grizzled, teary-eyed, and reached out a chubby little hand for Fili. The older Prince bent to take him from Kili, and to his credit hardly winced when Bilbo grabbed a tight hold on one of his beard braids. Bilbo seemed amused, nevertheless, and gurgled happily as he reached up with his other hand to pat Fili's cheek, testing the texture of his stubbly skin. Complacently, Fili held him a little higher against his chest so that Bilbo didn't have to reach nearly as far.

"Alright, just watch over him then." Thorin finally conceded. "Make sure he doesn't get hurt or lost, Erebor is hardly the place for such a small Hobbit child."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Uncle." Fili said, watching him with concerned eyes as he rocked Bilbo absently. "He'll turn back to normal in no time!"

"Hopefully." Thorin murmured, tentatively placing a hand on the back of Bilbo's head. He was still so shocked by how small Bilbo was - his entire head could fit in the palm of Thorin's hand. He was pleasantly warmed when Bilbo didn't duck away from his touch, but instead just let out a happy coo. "Don't get me wrong, I love this Bilbo too, I haven't ever seen such a charming child, but I want my Bilbo back."

Kili grinned. "He is really cute, isn't he?"

Thorin glanced at Bilbo again, watching as Fili coaxed the end of his braid out of Bilbo's innocently drooling mouth, which was then replaced by Bilbo's own fingers. "He is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by anon-san


	28. A Love That Runs Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A love that runs deeper than any other doesn't always lead to happiness.

Bilbo had grown up hearing of stories told by his father and other adult Hobbits about a special kind of love Hobbits could feel. It was something he couldn't understand for years - how some Hobbits met a person and just _knew_ there would be no other like them. His parents had been like, and he'd seen it in the way his father was accepting of his mother's adventurous habits and how his mother, in return, was effortlessly gentle with his father. 

When he was older, those tales left his mind. He never really connected with anyone in the Shire, and had no desire to settle down and marry. He'd thought that was just how he was, that he didn't love others like some did. 

Then he met Thorin Oakenshield.

Bilbo had disliked him instantly. He'd never met anyone who could look so grumpy and was so judgmental upon first seeing him. He wasn't attracted to such stern faces, not to mention all the body hair he was completely unfamiliar with. Thorin was just too much for him.

He should have expected he'd fall in love. It was just like him, always rebellious, even unintentionally. He didn't know when it happened, certainly after Carrock, but it was all a blur from there on. He'd never craved attention from a single person before, but Thorin hardly seemed to mind. Bilbo was unsure if Thorin loved him in return, but he was certain Thorin enjoyed his company. The Dwarf had confided in him, and they spoke often, privately. 

Bilbo found something in him changing, after he accepted what he felt. He felt bouts of protectiveness, of sadness at what Thorin had had to overcome in his life. He was beginning to understand the little things that had traversed between his own parents, could see the similarities in what was developing between Thorin and himself. 

The Gold Sickness was unlike anything Bilbo had ever heard of, had ever experienced. It terrified him, left him trembling right down to the bones. And Thorin succumbed to it so _quickly,_ turned on Bilbo even quicker. 

Bilbo had never felt so lost. He wanted his Thorin back, the one that would teach him how to use a sword and talk to him late at night when he couldn't sleep and sneakily give him large meal portions because he thought Bilbo didn't know he was. That Thorin was the one he loved, not the one who was greedy and cruel and willing to throw Bilbo from the ramparts like he was nothing.

It only made sense that Bilbo do everything he could to save Thorin, even if that meant betraying him. It hurt more than anything to see Thorin the moment he realised Bilbo had stolen the Arkenstone, and even though he knew it was for the best he felt guilty and crushed and dirty. How did he make Thorin see that this was helping him? That Bilbo was trying to help? He was too blind to see past the gold in his reclaimed halls.

Despite everything Bilbo did, despite _betraying_ the one he loved above all else, the battle raged on. No matter what Bilbo did, he couldn't fix anything. He _didn't_ fix anything. The only thing that came out of his attempts was losing Thorin's trust, and Gold Sickness or not that is exactly what had happened.

Bilbo wasn't a fighter. Even though he knew how to wield a sword now he couldn't battle an Orc, couldn't do anything against them. He was too small, too unused to war, too soft from a life of luxury. He couldn't save Thorin, and he couldn't do this.

But he could die for Thorin. 

On Ravenhill, Bilbo protected Thorin. He couldn't kill Azog, and couldn't stop Azog from killing Thorin, but he could shield him, could be someone- _something_ useful for once. If the only thing he accomplished was becoming a new shield, then that was what he would do.

That was what he _did._

Neither Azog nor Thorin expected it. To be truthful, Bilbo didn't either. His body moved on its own accord before his mind could catch up, shielding Thorin, bending to create a resist, a barrier for the sword to sink into where it couldn't harm Thorin.

He died before he could reassure Thorin that this was his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon on tumblr suggested a Bilbo dies AU~ 
> 
> I was unsure if the anon wanted canon or non-canon, so I did both! 
> 
> The non-canon ficlet has been posted on my [tumblr,](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/) [here](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/post/134115311453/a-love-that-runs-deep-281115)


	29. A Refreshing Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is saved by a kind stranger.

Bilbo knew he shouldn't have wandered so far away from his den, but he couldn't help it, he was so _curious_ about the outside world. It called to him, lured him from safety, and although all his instincts screamed at him to get back home he squashed them down. 

He used to come here very often, when he was but a Fauntling. His father would insist on holding his hand, but his mother would let him frolic on his own, so long as he didn't leave her line of sight. Leaving the Shire was dangerous for Hobbits like him - they were killed for sport, their antlers mounted as trophies, their fur stolen and used. Bilbo was numb to such gruesome tales now that he was older, but they had frightened him when he was a child.

He hadn't ever seen a poacher, or even heard word of one in the area for quite a while. His wanderlust drove him from his home and out here once he realised there hadn't been a sighting of a poacher in many months. At first, he was extremely cautious, but after several trips out into the wild that feeling of worry lessened and diminished into nothing. 

It was on his seventh adventure into the wild that his luck ran out. 

Poachers caught his tracks, followed them, _hunted_ him down like he was an animal! He'd never been so scared, panting, as he ran through the forest trying to escape their arrows. He wasn't a fast runner, never had been, and these Men were easily keeping up with him. He couldn't stop crying, was being too noisy, he knew, but he couldn't help it- 

Suddenly, out of nowhere an arm grabbed him and hauled him to the ground. Bilbo screamed, but a hand muffled his mouth as soothing noises reached his twitching ears.

It was a Dwarf that had grabbed him. _A Dwarf!_

"Hush, now." The Dwarf whispered. "Or they'll hear you."

Bilbo panted heavily against the Dwarf's hand, feeling his legs tremble. He hunched as close to the ground as possible, pressing his underbelly to the dirt. His eyes and cheeks were wet as he stared, frightened, at the Men that rushed past shouting and yelling.

"Are you alright?"

Bilbo whimpered, and flinched as the Dwarf carefully brushed away his tears.

"I doubt you're meant to be out here." The Dwarf murmured. "I've never seen your kind before. My name is Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield. Can you tell me yours?"

Bilbo swallowed deep gulps of air, and shakily shook the hand Thorin offered him. "B-Bilbo." He whispered. "Bilbo Baggins."

"Come, I'll take you away from them." Thorin stood. "You should probably return to your home."

Bilbo nodded, and accepted the helping hand Thorin lent him. As he stood, his legs started to buckle, and Thorin let out a strange sound as his arm slid around Bilbo's deer torso to keep him upright.

"Can you walk?"

"I-I think." Bilbo mumbled, gripping Thorin's arm tightly as he takes a few cautious steps. Thorin's arm hovered over his back just in case. "Why did you help me?"

Thorin frowned. "They were going to kill you."

Bilbo turned his eyes down. "It was my fault for being out here." He mumbled. "Why aren't you trying to kill me too?"

Thorin looked affronted at that. "Why would I ever try to do that?" He asked. "Just because you're part deer?"

"That's everyone else's excuse." Bilbo said miserably as he stumbled but quickly righted himself. 

The Dwarf just shook his head. "Their actions are despicable. Now, which way are we going, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo smiled at him faintly, flushing. No one had ever been so kind to him, had ever given off such an honest aura. It was a refreshing change.


	30. Handle With Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is pregnant and the Dwarves are overprotective.

Bilbo woke to a hand gently pressing against his stomach. It wasn't a strange way to wake up these days, not while he was seven months pregnant, looking nine. Most of the time it was Thorin, who often appeared awfully chuffed at making Bilbo look as he did, but as he blurrily opened his eyes he found Kili spread out across the bed.

"Good morning." Bilbo croaked around a yawn.

"Morning." Kili smiled pleasantly. "Rough night?"

"A little." Bilbo said. "Baby kicked hard, made me queasy."

"Wanna eat something?" Kili asked. "You slept through first and second breakfast, but I saved something for you."

Bilbo, unable to refuse Kili's hopeful eyes, nodded and allowed the young Prince to help him upright. He would have liked to rest in bed for a little longer, but he followed Kili nevertheless, though he remained in his pyjamas. Ever since he'd fallen pregnant, all the Dwarves of Erebor had become very protective of him. He knew Dwarven pregnancies were notoriously rare and fragile, so he tolerated their affections. It was nice to be pampered. 

Bilbo found that Thorin's nephews were the most excited, bar the expectant parents of course. This was the first baby to be born into their family since Kili's birth, and Thorin's first child. Bilbo doubted that the brothers had ever held a child before, but he fully trusted them with both himself and his unborn child. They were both very attentive, and constantly checked in on Bilbo, even if Thorin was around.

True to his word, Kili had saved Bilbo far more food from breakfast than he could possibly stomach, though he smiled and ate as much as he should for the baby. Kili stayed and chatted his ear off, which had Bilbo chuckling. 

He probably would have only been eating for ten minutes before Fili came wandering in, eyes searching. He just grinned and messed around with Kili while Bilbo ate, but not after placing a gentle hand on Bilbo's stomach. Bilbo had become used to such touches, and although sometimes he didn't allow them, most of the time he didn't mind. The Dwarves were always very studious with his boundaries, and respected when he didn't want to be touched, so when he didn't mind he let them do as they wished. 

Thorin, predictably, found them soon after. He was always worried for Bilbo and their child, but seemed considerably less so when he found his nephews with Bilbo. He chastised them for their roughhousing, but quickly took his place by Bilbo's side, giving him a small kiss as he slipped his arms around Bilbo (it much harder to do that, with the belly and all). 

"Feeling better?" Thorin asked quietly. He was the one who always rubbed Bilbo's back through the painful bouts of morning sickness, and never failed to wake if Bilbo so much as put a foot out of the bed. Bilbo always complained that he needed his sleep, but Thorin insisted that he would be with Bilbo until Bilbo fell asleep once more.

Bilbo nodded. "Much." 

Thorin smiled faintly, and rubbed his stomach gently. "I'm glad."

Bilbo smiled back. Yes, he knew the Dwarves were overprotective. Many would reject their coddling, wouldn't understand their views on pregnancy and childbirth, but Bilbo did. He didn't resent them for their actions, for how carefully they handled him. He loved them, and that wouldn't change, overprotectiveness and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for sticking with me for another month! ^///w///^
> 
> It's very difficult to come up with titles sometimes, aha ^^" I feel like I've used them all! If you ever spot one being a double, make sure to tell me~
> 
> I believe I've asked this before, but I'll ask again! What have been your favourites from both this month and the rest of the year? I'm very curious to know what people favour ^^ 
> 
> I am still taking requests, as well, so if you have something in mind feel free to tell me! I hope that in December I can bring my best work for you to read, I feel like I've (hopefully) improved a lot this year ^^


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